Prove It
by DragonMaster65
Summary: An alternate timeline AU where Tris is just a bit more ruthless rather than brave. Eric, the imposing and cruel leader in charge of overseeing initiation, seems hell bent on making her life miserable. Is there any reason for the challenges and one-on-one training, or is Eric just trying to make Tris screw up her chances of passing initiation? [In-Progress]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: About half of this is based off of the books and the other half is based off of the films. The timeline I'm using is going to diverge (haha) pretty much as soon as training begins, but nothing before then is going to change. No ret-conning Caleb as an Abnegation initiate, no Four-has-a-secret-twin-brother, nothing like that. **

**Appearances are going to be based off of the films because I'm a lazy bastard who doesn't want to look through her book again for the true-to-form descriptions. Also there may be certain details that, again, I mix up because I'm just too lazy to look them up! There, I admitted it. Also, I haven't read anything beyond Divergent sooo any secret details revealed in either sequels will just sort of not exist until I do so. If you have read my tags, you'll know what to expect ship-wise here (spoiler alert: it's Eris because I'm 100% trash). **

**If any of this bothers you as a reader, sorry. If not, please read on and review!**

My heart pounded in my ears when we jumped off the train for the first time. Christina was shrieking with laughter and I realized I was as well, jitters racing through me as I pushed myself up to stand. "We did it!" she turned to me, rubbing gravel out from her clothes. The heavy denim and leather that the Dauntless always wear started to make some sense to me.

"Yeah, we jumped off a _train_!" I exclaimed just as eagerly. I turned to look at the other initiates spread out across the roof and my heart stopped just as suddenly as it had begun racing. A dauntless-born initiate was being pulled back from the ledge, babbling and crying incoherently. A hush fell over the noisiest Faction as we all moved to see what caused her breakdown.

A girl sprawled spread-eagle on the ground, her neck at an impossible angle. I choked back a gasp and turned away from the ledge. The Dauntless girl shrieked incoherently, calling out the dead girl's name over and over.

This was not Abnegation.

The crowd pushed back, the rest of the initiates silent or whispering frantically to each other. Some black-clad adult moved to do...well whatever it is you do to deal with an accidental death in Dauntless. Some other men and women - it was all kind of a blur what was happening - walked the rest of us across the way to another rooftop.

I followed Christina automatically, trying to shut out the wailing that was still going on behind us. "Is- is she going to be okay?" I whispered to Christina. "Do you think they'd make her go into training right after that just happened?" I couldn't imagine being told to jump straight into faction training if something had happened to Caleb.

"No idea," Christina whispered back softly. "This is Dauntless though, so…" Her voice trailed off as silence fell over the cluster of remaining initiates. Someone had stepped onto the ledge in front of them, rocking easily on the balls of their feet like an initiate hadn't just fallen to her death minutes ago.

"Listen up!" he barked, narrowing his eyes as he finished studying the group of initiates in front of him. His dirty-blonde hair was pressed flat in the wind, but that didn't dull his cold stare. From the twin eyebrow piercings to the stark black tattoos crawling up his neck, he emanated _Dauntless_ like a beacon. I wrapped my arms around me, trying not to pick at the thread of my sleeves. The calmness and safety of Abnegation was seeming more and more desirable every second I spent on this rooftop. But I couldn't let that stop me. Safety didn't mean happiness. I left to feel something, to embrace a part of me that I could never have accessed in the off-white halls of Abnegation.

"You've almost passed the first test to being a true Dauntless," he continued once the last chattering Erudite boy stopped. "Those who failed to make it to this rooftop weren't meant to progress past it, something each of you would do well to remember." A shiver went down my spine. Just like that, he was dismissing an initiate's death?

"I'm Eric, and I'm one of Dauntless leadership." _Leadership?_ I raised an eyebrow and looked at Christina. She looked just as bewildered as I was. _He was twenty years old, at best. How the hell was he a leader?_ "I'll be tasked with watching over your progress, provided you finish the last step for today. If you want to enter Dauntless, this is the way in." He gestured behind him with his arms. Nothing was there except open air.

"What's down there?" the Erudite who hadn't shut up before called out.

Eric trained his stony gaze at him, clasping his hands tightly behind him. "You're just going to have to jump to find out," he spat in reply. The group shifted even more uncomfortably, if that was possible.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

God, I wish I could summon the courage to move my feet a step forward, or even unwrap my arms from their locked position.

Eric rolled his eyes, disappointment - or was it boredom?- rolling off him in waves. "Okay then," he drawled, his sharp gaze piercing the crowd once more. I shivered when he looked at me, quick as it was. Then he pushed one foot off from the curved ledge and dropped straight from view, falling below in a whisper of fabric.

Silence.

No, not silence.

My heart was pounding a million miles an hour, my adrenaline surging once more. That was what Dauntless was all about, wasn't it? Daring to go where no one else would? "Here," I found myself saying, tugging off my grey, Abnegation tunic and shoving it at Christina. "I'm not getting kicked out of Dauntless. Not today."

Two quick steps forward and I pushed past the still-stunned group. "Where's the Stiff going?" one of the Candor transfers sneered, but I ignored him. I hopped onto the curved ledge, staring down at a gaping hole in the ground. Here goes nothing.

Not even pausing for a second breath, I leapt from the ledge and plummeted down, all my fears and reservations evaporating as the brick buildings around my flashed by. Down through the broken concrete into darkness, my teeth digging harshly into my lower lip to keep from screaming.

I slammed into something far more flexible than water or hard ground, bouncing almost a third of the way back up to the entrance of the hole before landing once more in the netting. I stared at the bright spot above me, the wind half-knocked out of me. Already my eyes were adjusting to the darkness and I couldn't make out any details from the world above.

Something tipped the surface, the netting, I was on and I quickly scrambled to not fall to the ground. Two strong, callused hands wrapped around my wrists and steadied me. I stared at the black tattoos crawling up his forearms before I looked up into his face. Eric.

"So the Stiff was the first to jump," he growled, not sounding too happy about it. "Or were you pushed?"

My pride bristled at that and I flushed. "No, I jumped," I replied with as much determination as I could muster. His hands released me then and I could see a smirk on his face now.

"Got a name, First Jumper?" he asked. I nodded, my mind racing. This was Dauntless. I wasn't Abnegation anymore. I wasn't Beatrice anymore. I could pick a new name, choose a new life.

"Tris. I'm Tris." My breath was back and I was glad for it. The intensity in his eyes was like a blazing fire and I fought to shove away the flush that I couldn't control.

His pierced eyebrow darted up again and I thought he was hiding his surprise at an Abnegation "stiff" adapting so quickly to the Dauntless lifestyle. His hand grabbed my wrist again and he turned, pushing my arm high into the air. "First jumper, Tris!" he bellowed. The black and red shadows around me began whooping and shouting, and I realized that the Dauntless who had disappeared from the train were down here, waiting to watch the new initiates come in.

I grinned like mad, soaking in their cheers and attention.

This was _not_ Abnegation. And that was_ good_.


	2. Chapter 2

Once all the initiates jumped, pushed, and screamed their way into the pit, Eric passed us off to two other Dauntless members who introduced themselves as Four and Lauren. Before he vanished into the dark hallways and left us with our trainers, he made one final speech. "By making it down here, you're only one step into Dauntless initiation. You're going to have to continue proving yourself in the three stages of initiation or you'll be cut from the faction."

Christina piped up, as only a Candor could, her face pale. "Cut? What do you mean, cut?"

Eric trained his cold glare on her and replied matter-of-factly, "Not everyone that's here is Dauntless material." He didn't look at me, thankfully. He did look pointedly at a stocky Candor girl built like a tank who was last to jump down. "The process eliminates those who don't belong here. If you're true Dauntless, you won't give a shit that you might not make it."

He turned on his heel and stalked into the shadows. "You chose us, now we get to choose you," his voice echoed down the hall. For the third time in not so many minutes, we were struck silent.

The trainers took over fairly quickly once Eric had stalked far enough down the corridor. The initiates who were Dauntless-born left to work with Lauren, leaving the transfers from other factions - five Candor, three Erudite, and myself from Abnegation - with the imposing Four.

Christina couldn't hold back from commenting on Four's name as soon as he introduced himself officially - which honestly, I wanted to do the same - and got a stern talking to. After getting shown where the dorms were, Four brought us to the Pit and let us loose to eat dinner.

The amount of people crowding around, shouting, and laughing together was amazing. Never was mealtime like this in Abnegation and again a rush of joy flooded through me. Christina tugged me through groups of pierced and tattoo'd faction members, intent on finding a seat. I just wanted to keep staring, though the smell of food _was_ starting to get to me.

"Look, there's a spot," she pointed. I started to lead us over there, but she balked suddenly. "Actually, no way. That's Four. No way am I sitting next to our instructor on day one," Christina said insistently, shaking her head quickly.

"Now, that's not very Dauntless of you," a voice said from behind us. One of the other transfers - I think his name was Will - had been following us in our quest for a table to sit at. "We're supposed to embrace the culture of our new factions, Candor," he added matter-of-factly.

I had to agree with him, though I also wasn't too keen on sitting next to the guy who was going to decide whether I was good enough for Dauntless. Christina seemed to be bolstered by Will's comment and she sat down confidently next to him. "Don't call me Candor, Erudite," she retorted smoothly. "Or are you incapable of not classifying everything you see?"

He seemed to be unphased by her remarks. "Alright then, have it your way, Miss I-don't-know-your-name," Will replied casually, suddenly all pleasant smiles. Christina introduced both of us and I nodded along mutely. With Christina's big mouth, I barely had to say anything at all for the next few minutes as the empty table slowly filled up with transfer initiates.

Four grew more and more displeased as the minutes ticked by, until he finally turned to glare imposingly at Christina and Will. They were locked in a debate about something in Candor's initiation process, which Four interrupted with sharply. "Stop talking about your old factions," he snapped.

"You're Dauntless, now," another voice remarked from behind me. Eric. "Regardless of where you came from," he added with a smirk. "The Stiff - ah, _Tris_ \- being first jumper should have shown you that."

My face flared up again in a flush. An hour into Dauntless and one of the leaders knew my name specifically. I wanted to look straight at my food and pretend I wasn't hearing this, but that was rather against the point of the whole incident. So I gave a thumbs up to my fellow initiates and added quietly, "Yay for death-defying jumping."

Peter, the Candor boy from earlier, rolled his eyes and scoffed. I almost shut down then and tried to shrink away, let the others forget I was there, but I wasn't allowed the opportunity. "Yeah, roll your eyes, jackass. Pretend you didn't scream like a terrified child when you jumped," Eric growled.

Alright, _now_ I was totally red in the face and embarrassed. I had to knock that Abnegation trait out of my life before it totally ruined my image. Terrifying, icy-glared Eric defending my first jumper honor was something I would not be able to depend on here for long.

The rest of the initiates resumed a hushed conversation when Eric stepped away from behind me to talk with Four. My eyes turned to him now, looking over his confident stance and steel-grey eyes. God, I didn't care what he was saying to Four, but once again I was hit with a lightness in my head and fluttering in my stomach. Dauntless to the core, that's what he was. I wanted that. I wasn't going to let anything stop me from getting that.

When he turned and walked away, he met my eyes, finally causing me to break my stare and look to the half-finished hamburger still in my hands. I'd stopped blushing by then and a new wave of heat rushed over my face.

"Why are you blushing so much, Tris?" Christina asked me, her eyebrow raised in amusement. "See something you like?"

I shook my head violently and quickly took a bite of my hamburger. "Just not used to people knowing who I am," I lied through a full mouth. "Former Abnegation." Thank God I wasn't in Candor.

She didn't look convinced.

Neither was I.

* * *

After dinner wrapped up, I fully expected the evening to pass on with relatively less excitement. However, that wasn't to be the case as the rowdiness of the dining hall was broken by the sound of someone yelling what sounded like a war cry. It echoed off the walls, not losing steam until the noise had dulled to a low murmur.

Christina and I looked at each other. Was this yet another part of our training? Or did this just happen every night in Dauntless? "My poor ears," Molly complained in a voice loud enough that more than four people "shhh'd" her.

Standing on a ledge overlooking the dining room was a dark skinned man, probably older than Four or Eric, but younger than my father. He snapped his mouth shut and let the last echo of the war cry peter out. Then, he spoke in a loud and commanding voice. "Today we have gained many initiates who strive to bring pride to the warrior faction," he began. "However, so also have we experienced loss. The loss of a true Dauntless, someone who was not afraid of the consequences of their actions."

From behind the man stepped a now-familiar face. Eric stood rigidly next to the other leader and continued seamlessly from where he had stopped. "Initiate Allison Hayden showed us that bravery can be found within ourselves in ordinary actions. We should all aspire to show the same relentless bravery in everything we do," he shouted with the same intonation and emphasis as the first leader and the one who followed afterwards.

The rest of the speech was lost on me as two more tattooed and aggressive Dauntless leaders stepped to the ledge. Clearly this was not the first time an initiate had died during training. A bad taste filled my mouth and I looked away from the ledge. They were not commending her death. This was not a eulogy. This was a cry for ferocity and ruthlessness for it's own sake.

"To Allison the brave!" All four bellowed, and the crowd howled back in response. I clenched my jaw tight and glared at the leaders on the ledge. I locked my eyes onto Eric, standing rigidly and staring angrily ahead. How could someone call himself a leader and care so little about the people he leads? I refused to believe it. This was not bravery. Exalting an accident was not courage.

I could not wait to leave this pit, this mob of people idolizing the actions of a terrified girl. I would not feel brave, looking down on these people as they chanted my name. As soon as the chanting turned to incoherent noise, I pushed my way out and back to the dorms.

**A/N: Hello again, my dear readers! I realized I had forgotten to give credit to my dear friend Miki who has helped me to brainstorm basically everything that's happened so far in this story. So, THANKS MIKI!**

**I felt that it was important to include the funeral for Rita's sister (who was unnamed in the books) to showcase just how little Dauntless is affected by death. Yes, they basically ignored it and skipped right to "who want's to jump down into the unknown?" without any care at all, but I wanted to re-enforce that feeling. Also, more chances for dramatic speeches on bravery by Eric, right? Right?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So I fucked up earlier calling Peter "Erudite." I went back and changed that, so everything should match up again. Yay. If I messed up anything specific like that, please feel free to let me know. **

**Also, I realized that the initiate who died was named "Allison." That was unintentional with respect to being similar to poor Al. **

**Totally unrelated to anything, I was doing very important research and discovered that Jai Courtney (Eric) is fucking Australian. Like how? How does that work? Accent training fucks me up, man. **

The morning began with the harsh sound of metal-on-metal and I shot up from my bunk. All around me, the transfers reacted with various levels of preparedness. Al threw himself off the bed, trying to put on shoes and a shirt at the same time. Christina stayed lying down, swearing to herself about ungodly wakeup times. I blearily stared at the source of the noise - Four, rattling a metal pipe between the bars of an unused bunk.

"Ten minutes, training room," he barked once everyone at least has their eyes open. "Grab breakfast if you want, but don't be late." He dropped the pipe with another loud clang and walked out without another word.

Nine minutes and forty seconds later, according to Al's watch, the nine of us gathered in a tight circle inside the training room. Will had already memorized the path to get there, saving Christina and I from going in the totally wrong direction. I kept taking furtive glances behind me at the door, wishing I had tied my boots on quicker and gotten a muffin from the dining hall.

A shadow blocked the already dim light from the hall and Four walked in. He seemed to be in pretty much the same mood as yesterday - tense and unamused. He walked past the group, whistling loudly between his teeth to get the our attention. "Alright, listen up. Your training is going to be broken into three parts. You'll be ranked at the conclusion of each section and those who aren't making the cut will, in fact, be cut," Four called out as he continued to walk past the group.

Stopping at a long table tucked by the brick warehouse wall, he started assembling what appeared to be a pistol. "You'll be trained separately from the Dauntless born until the end of phase one, but you'll still be ranked together," he added. Looking up with a stern expression, he finished the pistol and cocked it in a smooth motion. "I suggest you train well and train hard in these next few weeks. There will be no considerations for who was born into what faction when determining who gets cut."

We were still standing about fifteen yards from the table of weaponry, no one moving at all. Peter seemed to want to make a comment about the rankings, but I think after the reaming out that Christina got yesterday, he decided to keep quiet. "Now today you're going to be learning two important things: how to use a gun and how to win a fight. To do that, you first need to learn how to put together a gun. Get over here and grab a spot," Four ordered.

The group moved slowly, still not adjusted to the fast pace of Dauntless. "Now, initiates!" our instructor barked, his arm snapping straight up and a loud _crack_ of a gunshot echoing about the room. I jogged to the edge of the table, farthest away from Four, and stared at the pieces of metal laid out in front of me.

The process was fairly simple, and once Four walked us through it, it easy to build the firearm. He made us take the pistol apart three times and build it again faster each time. I found it relaxing and easy to get into a quick flow of spring, spring guide, slide, barrel, frame, magazine, cock it, done. Fire a single blank and start the process all over again. The echoing sounds of blank cartridges was unnerving, but at least I was no longer flinching each time someone let off a shot.

"Very nice, initiate. But can you do it without looking?" a rough voice sounded in my ear. My heart rate immediately spiked, and I fought to not jump and turn around. Barely a foot behind me lurked Eric, dressed in his same vest as yesterday and black pants. His hands were behind his back again, like he was at rest, waiting for orders.

I shifted to stand a bit straighter and nodded confidently. "I don't see why I couldn't," I replied, feeling cocky. If this is what Dauntless training was going to be like, I was definitely feeling less intimidated about the cutting process.

He smirked and held one hand out, looking pointedly at the pistol. Silently I handed it over, carefully trying to keep my confidence from wavering. In rapid motions, he disassembled the gun and laid it out on the table once more. "Okay, jumper, time to put your money where your mouth is," he said gruffly. A piece of long, black fabric appeared from one of his pockets and he stepped even closer to where I was standing.

"It's not unusual for a transfer to pick this up quickly, jumper," he murmured as he slipped the band of fabric over my eyes. His breath tickled the back of my neck while he continued talking. "I just hope you keep up the progress." I could feel him knotting it, his hands brushing against my tied-back hair.

I heard the snapping of fingers in front of me, but I couldn't see it through the dark blindfold. "Go ahead, then," Eric said, apparently satisfied that I couldn't cheat.

I reached for the table gingerly, the pieces laid out in unfamiliar places. I fumbled and nearly dropped the slide at one point, but I managed to piece together the firearm at about the same speed as before. I found myself smirking as I pointed the muzzle to the ceiling and cocked it, about to fire.

"Wait," Eric's voice was in my ear again. His hand wrapped around mine, trapping my fingers from moving onto the trigger. "We don't want an accident from a ricocheting bullet." He didn't take the pistol from me, but instead used my arm to quickly turn me around, facing the opposite wall across the training room.

I used my free hand to tug off the blindfold, no longer wanting to play along when I clearly was at an even greater disadvantage than I'd thought. "What did you say?" I asked quietly. "Is this thing-?"

"Live? Quite," he replied with a smirk. Eric's grip on my hand slackened slightly, but he was still standing directly behind me, guiding my arm to point at a target against the far wall. "How else can you tell if you hit the target?" I was barely registering what was going on. But damn if I was going to let that stop me from beating Eric at his own game.

I shut out the wide-eyed stares of Christina and Will, two slots down from where I was. "That target?" I confirmed, jutting my chin at it.

"Mmm," he murmured softly. His hand finally dropped from mine, and he stepped back far enough that I could no longer feel his breath on my neck. _Shut it all out_. I gripped the pistol a little more firmly and stared down the target. After my best attempt at aiming - squinting one eye and adjusting where I thought the muzzle was facing - I squeezed the trigger. A hole appeared on the bottom of the target, nowhere near the center.

Something moved to my right - Four, turning quickly from helping Al to see what was going on - and I breathed in. A small adjustment to my aiming and I shot again, breathing out instinctively. Too high now, and too far left. Breathe in, aim, breathe out, fire. Three more shots, all circling tighter to the center of the target, but still not inside the two closest rings.

"Tris!" Four was barking. I blinked and turned to look at him, carefully pointing the pistol to the ground. "What do you think you're doing, initiate?" My mouth instantly became dry and my stomach seemed to be filled with lead. Here I was, blindly listening to Eric without thinking that just maybe my actual instructor might not like that.

I opened my mouth, not fully certain what I was planning on saying. Part of me hoped that Eric would jump in and explain, but he seemed to be perfectly content to examine his own pistol's clip - no, it was my clip, filled with blanks that he was sliding into his own gun. "I was trying some target practice?" I finally managed to reply.

Goddamn Eric was still just leaning back on the table. Four was livid, stalking towards me slowly. "So you just decided you knew enough to start shooting targets. With live ammunition. Untrained," he spat each word out.

I wish I had just stayed in Abnegation.

Four stopped in front of me, jabbing his finger painfully into my collarbone. "You don't make the curriculum, initiate. Break that weapon down and take twenty laps," he sneered. I nodded quickly and turned around to avoid meeting his eyes for any longer. God, I would be lucky if I was ranked above anyone at this point.

Eric moved only slightly to allow me to put my things down. Otherwise, he continued to inspect his spotless gun, brushing invisible powder from it with a tiny cleaning tool. My hands shaking slightly, I broke my pistol back down into the now familiar pieces. "The rest of you, take ten and go eat something," Four called out. My face burned from pure embarrassment and anger.

"Actually, make it fifteen." Was that kindness on Four's part? I could probably run twenty laps in that much time and still sprint and get something quick.

I tried my best to smile at Christina when I met her eyes, but I don't think I was very convincing. I started jogging, not even saying 'sorry' when I almost stepped on Eric's boots. Two laps through and I couldn't keep from sprinting, my pent up anger needing to go _somewhere_. Eleven laps through and I couldn't have dreamed of sprinting anywhere, never mind down to the dining hall and back to the room.

"Stop running," Eric called out from his perch by the weapon's table. I gritted my teeth and slowed down slightly, but not completely.

"Why?" I asked breathlessly. "You heard - _huff_ \- Four. Twenty laps." My sides were killing me and each step felt like agony. I slowed down to a walk reluctantly, needing the slowdown but hating that Eric would think I was listening to him again.

I think he smiled. Or maybe smirked again. It was hard to tell from where I was in the room. "And you can finish those some other time tonight. But right now," he said walking to the center of the room, "you're going to finish target practice."

If I had been Christina, I think I would have told him where he could stick his target practice. But I wasn't Christina, so I trotted over to where he was standing, clutching my sides when I finally stopped moving. "We're literally about to do this when Four comes back," I retorted weakly. I was glad for the respite, but that didn't mean I had to let him know.

Eric chuckled darkly. "You mean, you're going to learn trigger discipline and how to assemble three other kinds of weapons. Then, everyone _else_ is going to work on shooting and he's going to make you replace targets because you were a bad girl," he said, sounding fairly confident with his expectations of Four.

I stared at the paper target I'd been shooting at before, scowling. I was in dangerous waters, getting caught between this apparent rivalry between Four and Eric. But the more that I looked at those five bullet holes sprayed everywhere but the center, the more determined I felt. "Screw that," I growled, turning to look at Eric. "I'm not going to miss out on shooting. Especially because _you_ were the reason I even did it." I stuck out my hand, hoping that I wasn't making the a huge mistake.

He tugged his pistol from his belt and slipped it into my hand. "I like a Stiff with bite," Eric murmured as he took up position behind me again. "Almost as much as I like someone who knows when to keep their mouth shut." I could feel my ears redden, and I tried to act calm.

I took a deep breath and aimed once more at the paper target. "Breathe like you were before," Eric said calmly behind me. "Exhale when you shoot so you don't tense up." I think I nodded back. I'm not fully certain. My attention was almost entirely on the center ring alone.

I squeezed the trigger twice in succession, feeling how the heavy firearm moved each time. Two more holes appeared in the target, close together but still beyond the center of the target. I growled and quickly adjusted my aiming before firing two more angry shots. Bam, bam. Middle rings again.

From behind me, two tattooed arms came up and Eric's hands clasped over mine. "Relax, Stiff. Aim just a little higher and don't be afraid of the recoil," he murmured, his lips brushing against my right ear as he quickly adjusted my aim. "Now, exhale and fire."

My heartbeat racing, I listened to his orders and prayed that I didn't screw up. One single squeeze of the trigger and an earshattering gunshot.

"Bingo," he breathed in my ear, though he didn't let go for another two heartbeats. I nodded nervously and stepped away from him quickly. I swallowed hard. The center of the target was shot out, a tiny ridge of white the only remaining indicator that there had been a bullseye at all.

Bingo, indeed.


	4. Chapter 4

My stomach was growling beyond belief by the time Four dismissed us for lunch. We'd gone over proper weapon handling, which included doing another ten laps around the training room with rifles in hand and pistols in shoulder holsters. Much to my chagrin, Eric had been correct in his prediction of how Four would react. Both I and Al got held back from target practice, although I didn't quite see how Al's inability to run the full ten laps was a legitimate reason to keep him from shooting.

"After today, you'll be expected to check and maintain any of your assigned equipment before using it," Four explained just before dismissing us. "A weapon in hand is useless if it's not cleaned properly." Christina tapped her foot, impatiently staring at Four. He didn't seem phased, smiling blandly as he continued to talk about how maintenance also included making sure that our own things weren't lost or "lost," as that would result in an immediate reduction in points.

I had a niggling feeling that we'd lose points if our gear was "lost and found" by another initiate. Dauntless seemed to not care whether something was strictly fair or not, just that you got what needed to be done, done.

Finally we were officially let loose from the training room, under orders to come back before one o'clock or "not come back at all." I checked the padlock on my assigned weapons locker once more before tugging Christina along with me down the dark corridors. "For fuck's sake, Tris, I'm hungry too," she grumbled, but I could tell she wasn't actually upset.

"Well at least you got to eat breakfast," I replied sarcastically. "I just got to run around in circles for a bit and watch Eric clean his gun." That wasn't entirely true, but I didn't want to get into what actually happened. I was glad for the dim lights as my face warmed slightly.

"If you mean we got to eat stale, leftover blueberry muffins, then sure we had breakfast," Will complained from ahead of us.

We entered the dining hall and my heart melted at the sight of honest to goodness hot food. "I would have given my left arm for one, still," I admitted with a sigh. We lined up and grabbed trays, the conversation stalling as I filled mine with all the fixings for an enormous sandwich. At the end of the line, I had to carefully balance my water bottle on top of my bun so that I could still hold the tray with both hands.

Will lead the charge to a clear table, thankfully clear of Four or any other Dauntless members. I sat down and assembled my monster sandwich, the end result making Al and Christina laugh. "I guess it didn't take you long to get off Abnegation food," Al commented with a genuine smile.

I shrugged and took a bite of the beast of a sandwich. I immediately regretted putting both mustard and mayonnaise on it, but hey, live and let live. "No sense being selfless when you've got to carb-load to make it through training," I mumbled through my full mouth.

Everyone laughed at that, making me feel a bit more relaxed. This morning might have been everything I hadn't expected from Dauntless, but I could deal with that if I had people to laugh it all off with. Polite conversation trickled off as we each chowed down, a content silence falling between the four of us.

A tray bashed into the back of my head, and I turned to see that it belonged to Molly. She sneered at me and said in a sarcastic drawl, "Sorry. Didn't see you there, Stiff. Must be your Abnegation leaking through your tough-girl facade."

I gritted my teeth and resisted the urge to bash her tray out of her hands with a well aimed elbow. "Bite me, Molly. At least I can run without tripping over my own feet," I retorted. Her face flared in an ugly snarl, but I turned back to my food.

I could still hear her huffing from behind me, like she was aghast that I wasn't going to take her crap laying down. "You're still not going to make it through initiation, Stiff," she finally growled before stomping away angrily. I raised an eyebrow and looked at my friends - I suppose I could call them that at this point, since we all at least tolerated each other - as they shook their heads at Molly.

"Ignore her," Will suggested. "Same for Peter and his cronies. They're a bunch of assholes who're just as scared of being cut as we are."

Christina nodded and Al added in cheerfully, "I mean, right now it's anyone's game for who can get cut."

"Statistically speaking..." Will started to explain himself eagerly. Al didn't give him the chance, elbowing him hard enough in the stomach that he coughed and sputtered instead. He said 'oops' in a very unconvincing tone and I could only laugh more.

Unfortunately, Christina took that moment to bring the conversation back around to training. "Speaking of ranking and cuts, what were you doing earlier, Tris? Do you really want to be cut so badly that you'll start shooting randomly at the wall?" She looked genuinely worried and my laughs turned to a grimace.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I sighed heavily. I tried looking down at my sandwich instead of meeting her gaze, but the sight of the pickles I'd pulled off in disgust wasn't really doing it for me either. "It was a little idiotic."

Al shook his head. "Not from what I saw. You were going way faster than the rest of us, even with that blindfold that Eric put on you," he eagerly insisted. I glared at him, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut. Obviously it wasn't a secret per se that Eric challenged me to rebuild my gun blindfolded, but I didn't want people to think I was doing it because I thought I was better than them or something.

Christina's eyebrows shot straight up and her attention was now 100% locked on to me. "No. Way. Creepy asshole Eric blindfolded you and made you do that shit?" she asked incredulously.

I fidgeted with my hands under the table. "I, well, I guess so. He's one of the leaders, so it's not like I'm going to tell him to go away, you know?" I explained weakly. And it was amazing to actually accomplish something that no one else had, I mused to myself as well. To meet a challenge head on. My reluctance to ignore him had nothing at all to do with his imposing glare and close contact.

Christina still looked unconvinced. "You'd better be careful is all I want you to know. Because as impressed as Eric might get to be, Four still is the one training you. Unless you really like running laps," she replied sarcastically. Al groaned at that, and I had to agree with the sentiment.

"You know, I heard that both Four and Eric were in the same class two years ago," Will mentioned thoughtfully. "First and second ranked, they were. Four turned down leadership and Eric got the job instead. Maybe that's why Eric's screwing with Four's trainees? Because he didn't get first ranked?" He looked contemplative, stabbing at his potato salad methodically.

"Either way," I interjected as cheerfully as possible, "so far it hasn't been a terrible first day!" I didn't want to try to think of reasons why Eric was telling me to fire at targets and skip Four's punishments. I just wanted to get through the rest of the day and pass stage one. Despite not officially having scored Dauntless, I was fitting in well enough with the lifestyle here, and I wanted that to continue. My divergence was not going to keep me from belonging here. Neither was my training.

Al's watch beeped rapidly, his five minute warning before Four's declared deadline. "Time to learn how to fight," he said quietly. I couldn't tell if his disappointment came from having to leave the lunch hall or because he really didn't want to fight. I put the thought out of my mind as I gathered up my tray. I had bigger things to worry about.

"Keep tension in your core, Tris," Four repeated for the third time in a single hour. My half-open mouth pressed into a scowl as I threw another punch at the bag in front of me. I'll show you tension, I growled internally, wishing I knew just exactly what he meant.

I got in another four or five punches before I heard him sigh heavily from behind me. "Right here," Four said in a softer voice, and his hands were suddenly around my waist. No, not quite. His fingers pressed against my stomach and he gently adjusted how I was standing. "Try now," he murmured, stepping back away from me.

Swallowing hard, I gave the bag another punch. It felt awkward, but I felt the bag move more than it had before. Immediately I turned my head and looked at Four. "Like that?" I asked. Alright, I might have been playing up the ignorant student card a bit so that he didn't think I was a pompous asshole like Peter or Drew, but it couldn't hurt.

Four nodded and something that could have been related to a smile ghosted across his face. "Keep at it. You don't have enough muscle mass to rely on just your arms for punching. You need to use your whole body," he explained. I nodded, hoping that if I just kept on agreeing, it might stick in my mind.

Determined to prove I could learn, I turned back to the bag and started the short cycle of hits that we were supposed to be working through. Four lingered behind me through the first set before grunting in approval and walking away. I relaxed for a moment when he left, rolling my shoulders and glancing around the room once again. Christina was flying through her punches, each hit not moving the bag much but her speed would definitely make her a force to be reckoned with if she had been fighting someone for real. Four had moved on to work with Edward, one of the Erudite transfers.

I didn't spot Eric anywhere around me, which suited me just fine. Maybe he was tormenting the Dauntless initiates since he'd spent all morning lurking with our group. My breathing back to normal, I turned back to the bag and slowly began punching once more. Each collision with the heavy bag stung my knuckles and sweat was beading heavily on my forehead. I checked my position, nodded to myself, and struck again. I would not let my inexperience keep me from proving myself.

"I'm totally going to get cut," Al moaned into his hands. We were sitting around at our table in the dining hall, utterly exhausted from today's training regimen. Even tireless Christina looked put out, her head propped up on her hand. "I'm not going to survive multiple weeks of this bullshit."

I felt pity rise in my stomach and I thought to his noisy sobs last night. If he was feeling this down and out after twenty four hours of initiation, I couldn't fathom either how he was going to make it through the final cuts. "Chill out, Al," I finally said after an awkward silence had fallen over the group. "You'll get stronger. I mean, you've got more muscle than Will, Christina, and I put together."

God, I did not want to be his shoulder to cry on. Ex-Abnegation or not, I could not wrangle up enough sympathy for Al. Not when literally all of us were going through the same struggles. "I just don't know if I'm cut out for Dauntless," he admitted with a heavy sigh. My eyes met Will's and I pleaded silently for him to say something encouraging.

The skinny boy clapped his hand on Al's shoulder. Awkwardly, Will asked, "Would you rather struggle and be stronger, or give up and be Factionless? Because this whole initiation is clearly designed to challenge us. Keep at it, man." Al sniffed once, but he was nodding along with Will's words.

"Okay then," Al said, his voice cracking as he forced a smile onto his face. "Then let's be Dauntless." Christina let out a tired cheer, her free hand pumping up into the air. She sarcastically suggested that we get tattoos, which Al seemed to latch on to with more vigor than I'd seen him display for anything all day. If I was paying more attention, I think I would have noticed its hollowness, but I just didn't have the energy.

The more he talked it up, the more Christina and Will seemed to jump onto the idea as well. "I mean, we are supposed to be embracing Dauntless," Christina said eagerly. "So, fuck it, let's get inked up!"

So in a rush of energy and excitement, I found myself swept up with the group scrambling up one of the treacherous pathways in the Pit to the tattoo parlor. Al looked at the designs for less than five minutes before selecting a wicked looking spider. Christina seemed torn between several designs, which was drastically different than Will who didn't seem to be looking for one at all.

I flipped through a few pages myself, chuckling along with the others at some of the ridiculous designs - a housecat eating a cow's skeleton? A drooling Saint Bernard? A pile of skulls shaped like a dick? My mind flashed to Tori's bird tattoo. Now that meant something to her; it was more than just a badge of honor to the faction.

The next page contained a flock of ravens, lifting as one from an imaginary field. Something about it struck a chord deep within me and I slipped the page from the binder. "Three of these," I said, tapping the page with a finger. "Across here." I sketched a line across my collarbone, leading from my shoulder to my heart. Christina grinned and gave me a thumbs up from her perch next to Al, who was already getting prepped to be inked.

I lucked out and snagged Tori to be my artist. To say she was surprised to see me was an understatement, and I was glad that my friends were too preoccupied to notice. "You made a mistake choosing Dauntless, Beatrice," she whispered urgently, pushing me onto one of the chairs and tugging the curtain around us.

"It's just Tris now," I replied automatically. "And I picked one of my aptitudes! Trust the test and all that crap." She shook her head, biting her lip even as she methodically prepared her tools. For the first time all day, I genuinely was afraid that I had made a terrible mistake. I was on Four's watch list, I couldn't punch very well, and now Tori - who had seen into my mind essentially - thought I was screwing up.

Then, her hands stopped moving frantically and she just sighed loudly. Her eyes cast to the dark ceiling, Tori just stared for a moment. "You did get Dauntless as one of your faction candidates. And, correct me if I'm wrong, you were first jumper yesterday," she said softly, her voice barely audible above the noise of the parlor.

I nodded silently, holding my breath in anticipation. "You… might… be able to survive initiation here," she finally admitted. "But it's going to be even more difficult for you if you don't pay attention to exactly how you're acting. The people here - the people in charge - won't stand for having someone like you around." Her eyes finally broke off from the ceiling and she returned to prepping her tools.

Sitting up straighter in the chair, I tugged my sleeve off to expose where I wanted the tattoo. "They're going to have to deal with it," I growled. "Because I'm not going anywhere now."

I picked up my boots from the ground, listening intently to the heavy breathing all around me. The rest of the transfers were still sleeping, enjoying the bliss of the last hour or so of sleep we'd get before Four was supposed to wake us at.

My muscles ached as I crept from the room, each quiet step sending shivers of pain along my legs. So why on earth was I even up? Ah, yes. My guilty conscience had woken me at the wonderful hour of five AM, my unfinished laps for Four haunting me in my broken dreams.

Confident that I was no longer going to wake up anyone unpleasant, I slid my boots on and laced them up with fingers still half-numb from sleep. Walking to the training room was uneventful - most of Dauntless was clearly still asleep. When I got to our assigned gymnasium, I slipped the door open, and went inside to start jogging without much thought.

Pumping my arms as I ran made the sensitive skin where I'd gotten inked sting. I chewed on the inside of my lip, concentrating on controlling my speed each time I lapped the room so as to ignore my aching body. As I rounded the doorway for the fourth time, I noticed that it was now closed up. I glanced around the room, breaking my fervent concentration to actually pay attention to my surroundings.

Another dark figure was keeping pace with me, directly opposite me in the room. Since I had only put on half of the lights, it took another half lap for me to identify who was mirroring my actions. The dirty blonde hair and crawling tattoos along his arms and neck was all I needed to recognize Eric. I swore under my breath as one of my strides landed wrong, sending a sharp pain up along my leg. I'd distracted myself, watching him as he ran.

I set out to ignore him completely after that, finishing the last of my assigned laps without once looking across the way to where he was. My muscles were screaming at this point and I dropped from a jog to a stuttering walk with a heavy sigh of relief. "Giving up so soon?" I heard Eric call from somewhere behind me.

My steps continued until I reached another corner and I couldn't walk any more. "Not giving up," I retorted breathlessly. "Just trying to not collapse before breakfast." I stretched out one leg slowly, trying to alleviate the shooting muscle pains. When I switched to the other one, Eric had caught up to me, stopping smoothly.

I glanced up at him, envious that he didn't even look bothered by the exertion. "Is part of leadership getting up before dawn to show up trainees?" I asked him sarcastically. "Because if so, there's no way I'll want that job."

He barked out a laugh at that, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're pretty funny for an ex-Stiff," Eric said wryly. "Is that why you had to transfer?" He looked me over carefully and again I wished I wasn't as winded as I was.

Something caught his eye and he stepped closer to me. Tired as I was, I still reflexively moved away, not liking the predatory gaze he was now sporting. "Or did you leave because you're actually one of us?" his voice was much lower and softer now, practically a purr. A smirk spread across his face and again he stepped closer to me. With the corner directly behind me, I didn't have any more space to retreat to.

Eric's hand reached out and brushed away my hair from where it had fallen, his fingertips just grazing my still-healing tattoo. It stung, despite the cream that Tori had given to Christina and I to speed up the healing. My face was burning with embarrassment at this point, with Eric being this close and his hand touching my skin, but just barely.

"I-I left because I didn't belong there," I said hoarsely. Why had my mouth dried up so suddenly? God, maybe I was going to pass out before breakfast. I still couldn't breathe, what with Eric now resting his hand on the wall, just aside from my neck.

My answer only widened his smirk, and his eyes switched from ogling my collarbone to meeting mine with that same predatory intensity. "I like your ink, Tris," he murmured slowly. "I like it as much as I like your fire." He continued to stare at me, his body inches from mine, suspended by his arm that didn't quite pin me to the wall.

"Does it mean something?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. I swallowed hard, trying to regain the ability to speak. His sudden change in attitudes astounded me, keeping me off guard.

"Do yours?" I retorted after a moment, jutting my chin out and looking pointedly at the angled marks crawling up his neck. "That had to have hurt, so there's no way you got them just for kicks."

After five long seconds of my heart beating in my ears, he finally answered. "They're leadership marks," Eric remarked casually. "It's a badge of honor to wear them, which is why we get them on the neck. The pain doesn't matter, not when you're Dauntless." Pride had replaced his hungry stare, and I blinked at him in awe.

Before I could say anything else, he pushed off from the wall and stalked away, heading to the doorway. "You should stretch first, before you run," he called over his shoulder. "You don't want to hurt yourself." Eric wrenched the door open, turning to look at me one more time before leaving.

I'd just started breathing normally, the flush fading from my face. "I still want to know what your tattoos mean, Tris. Don't think you made me forget," he said, the cocky smirk back on his face. I stared back at him, watching as he stepped out of the gymnasium and into the blue-lit hallway.

**A/N: Hello, hello! Such a long, split up chapter! Hope you liked all of it! I know I enjoyed pushing the plot along even if there wasn't much of our fearless leader present.**

**I have a request of my readers this time. My lovely fiance Daniel (who is THE most awesome) thought that I wasn't writing Four to be much more interesting than a blank wall, so I'd like your feedback to see if this chapter and the next few have improved upon that weakness. Despite this being an Eris-centric fic, I still want to do the other characters justice to as much of their original characterization as possible. This is also why I spent so long talking about lunch and other kind of less important details: Because this story would be one-dimensional if it literally was only about Eric and Tris magically getting together! Any comments at all would be very appreciated!**

**I also feel like at this time I should also comment about the quantity of swears that I'm putting in here. As much as I love YA fiction, there are always far less swears and vulgarities written in than any teenager I know actually uses. If you hate the swears, let me know and I'll see if I can tone them down, but I genuinely feel that they give everyone more realistic speech patterns than straight conversation does. I am trying to have Tris swear less than the others, building up over time as she becomes more accustomed to Dauntless.**

**[EDIT - 1 Mar 2017 - **

**I've gotten a few comments about static stretches not being appropriate for a pre-run workout. I'm not a trainer or a gym rat, so I apologize if that ruins your experience with this fic. Future chapters (anything after ch 18) will be sure to either switch to dynamic stretching or none at all]**


	5. Chapter 5

Eric returned to his lurking during our afternoon session of training. I tried to ignore him, but I couldn't help the little glances in his direction every couple minutes. He seemed bored, I noted to myself. Unamused by the repetition of the fight sequences. Grunting, I threw my knee up to strike the punching bag. I was also getting bored, too. Despite Four showing us how to fight with our elbows, knees, and palms this morning, I still felt like our pace was slower than a crawl.

"Alright, circle up!" a loud voice bellowed out, saving me from starting another set of kicks and hits. My arms dropped to my sides immediately, aching from today's exertions. The group gathered around the fighting ring that was set up towards the back of the room, and I half-jogged over there to avoid Four's wrath.

But it wasn't Four gathering us over by the ring. Eric was standing dead-center on the thickly padded floor, rocking back and forth again on his feet with his arms crossed sternly. While Four was intimidating when he summoned the group together, Eric emanated an aura of pure confidence and power.

"Four and I have decided that you're ready, more or less, to move past fighting inanimate objects," Eric explained in a decidedly neutral tone. One glance over to Four - who was crossing his arms and staring down the back windows as though they owed him money - told a very different story. They had no more collaborated together than I had collaborated with this punching bag. Eric was clearly flaunting his status, making Four kowtow to Eric's training plans rather than his own. _Rather like yesterday_, I decided with a frown. _So this was Eric's game_.

Eric looked pointedly over to his rival and continued speaking. "So we're going to pair you up and have you fight. No biting, but other than that, you can use any skills you've learned thus far," he said with a smirk. "Oh, and no shooting each other. That was nasty, wasn't it Four, when those two girls tried to pull a gun on each other?" He was practically bouncing on his feet now, enjoying himself as Four stared as intently as possible at the wall.

Four didn't break his gaze, just replied in a monotonous voice, "I'll assign you to pairs and you fight until you successfully knock the other out or they cannot fight anymore. Concession is also an option-"

Eric growled deep in his throat, his cocky visage disappearing in a flash. "If you want to end up Factionless," he said threateningly. "Only a coward concedes in a true fight." My eyes widened and my stomached immediately felt like it was tied in knots. That was it? Fight until you get knocked out or you beat the other person up til they do? Four gritted his teeth and searched the group for his first pair of fighters.

Al looked like he was going to be sick, his face paler than the chalk covering the fighting ring. When Four called for him and Will to get up there, I had to look away. He barely even moved once he got up there, his arms hanging loosely to his sides. Eric had stepped aside, clearing the ring for the first round of fights.

"Remember, you _will_ be graded on the outcome of everything you do, initiates," Four reminded them in a cold voice. I didn't want to watch the fight, but I couldn't tear my eyes away. Will started off strong, hitting Al hard across his chest and once directly aside his head.

Christina called out for Al to "move, you idiot!" and that seemed to knock some kind of sense into him. Something tipped in the fight as he surged forward, wrapping an arm around Will's torso and pummelling his other fist into the smaller boy's stomach. Will retaliated with two strong slams against the side of Al's face, wrestling free from his grasp.

"That's it, enough playing around," Eric growled appreciatively. Will seemed to be winded, not having taken the pummelling well at all. He dodged some of Al's punches, but he made a fatal mistake by dropping his guard to cough into his elbow. With a grunt, Al threw a punch directly at Will's jaw, connecting with a solid _twack_ that echoed through the room.

Eyes rolling, Will dropped to the ground in a heap. Someone shrieked - Christina, I think - and Peter whistled long and low. "Didn't think you had it in you, softy," he crooned, a wicked smile across his face.

Al seemed to be in a trance, his gaze transfixed on Will's unmoving body. He didn't move until Four stepped up into the ring, rolling Will onto his back to check that he was still okay. Lifting Will's eyelids, his concerns seemed to be somewhat alleviated. "He's going to be fine," Four murmured, more to calm Al down than for anyone else, I think. The tall youth was looking glassy-eyed and moving slowly.

"Come on," Four grunted as he tugged Will's arm over his shoulder. "Help me bring him to the infirmary, just to be sure." Drew and Peter started whispering to each other, and I didn't like how happy they seemed to see one of their fellow classmates getting knocked clear out. Initiation or not, fighting to unconsciousness wasn't sitting well with me.

The three forms made their way out the door, Al seeming to come to his senses the further he walked away from the ring. Eric wasted no time after that, assigning the next pair of fighters in a bored voice. Molly and Edward squared off after a moment, shuffling their bare feet on the chalked up floor.

My stomach was still churning and I barely registered the next two fights. It was just Drew, Christina, and I left on deck to go. Four still hadn't come back with Al, and I just wanted the day to be over. Eric called the result of the last fight - Myra had to be slapped awake by Peter after taking a foot to the jaw - before looking over those of us remaining.

"Drew, you'll be fighting-" he began quietly, a predatory smile spreading across his face.

"Christina." From the entrance of the training room, Four stormed in, his mood beyond sour. "You'll be fighting Christina," he repeated once more, glaring at Eric as though he dared him to challenge his decision.

My heart started beating again and I let out the breath I didn't know I had been holding in. Maybe it made me a coward, but I was glad I didn't have to fight today. After two days of training, my muscles were aching as it was. I didn't need to add bruises and hurt ribs to that mixture.

I looked at the ground, not wanting to meet anyone's eyes. I could feel Christina tense up beside me, but she still got up and walked determinedly to the center of the ring. "Fine, then," Eric growled, his teeth gnashed together. When Drew and Christina didn't start immediately, he swore under his breath before shouting, "go!" to the pair of them.

I watched the fight with unseeing eyes, barely noticing when Christina took a nasty fall to the ground, clutching her knee. Somehow she rallied and pinned Drew under her small frame, crying out furiously as she attacked him. He stopped struggling, going limp after a he couldn't throw her off.

"That's enough for today," Four said, glaring at Eric still. He hadn't said anything since he was interrupted earlier, leaning against the wall with a sullen expression. I did have to give him credit, though. He was ignoring Four like a pro, staring into the empty in front of him without so much as twitching when Four walked past him to the entrance.

Christina panted as she helped Drew stand up, giving me a weary thumbs up. I smiled at her from my spot on the floor, wishing that I could work this tension out of my stomach. She hopped out of the ring and made a beeline for her water bottle, chugging the rest of it before she spoke. "Well, you must be feeling pretty lucky not to fight, eh Tris?" she asked.

I shrugged and pushed myself up off the floor. "I mean, I was exhausted just watching you guys go at it," I admitted with a chuckle. "But on the other hand, I'm going to be that much more unprepared tomorrow." A twinge of panic cascaded through me and I knew then that had been what was really eating at me. Pain was one thing, but I was more afraid of getting my ass handed to me because I hadn't _gotten _to fight. Maybe the bruised ribs would have been worth it to feel more confident.

Christina laughed, shaking her head at me. "No way. One fight isn't going to magically make any of us better than you. Especially tomorrow when this," she pointed to her eye which was already blackening, " is going to be nice and tender." I nodded slowly, still not convinced.

She crunched up her water bottle and ran her hands through her hair once more. "I'm going to go check on Will in the infirmary since we got out early. You coming?" she asked casually. It was nice, I thought, to be invited, but the idea of visiting someone in the hospital just didn't sit right with me. It felt too much like something that Caleb and I would have been expected to do. I could imagine him telling me to be selfless, that visiting Will would help him to recover faster. I also imagined Caleb in his new Erudite blue, totally ruining any lingering desire of mine to go with Christina.

I excused myself, claiming that I wanted to stretch out my stressed muscles before sitting down for dinner. She extracted a promise from me to not miss them at dinner before she disappeared out the door.

Sighing, I walked over to my assigned locker and checked that it was still solidly locked up from earlier. Sure enough, the padlock was still in place and fastened securely. "That doesn't look like stretching," Eric's voice echoed in the nearly-empty training room.

Whirling around, I spotted him still leaning against that same wall. I'd assumed he would leave as soon as the fights were done, nothing left to attract his attention. "It's rude to eavesdrop," I retorted, settling onto one hip and crossing my arms.

Eric pushed off the wall and meandered towards me, his hands now tucked in his pockets casually. "Just pointing out an observation. Please, go right ahead with whatever you were going to do," he replied. I frowned, not quite placing his mood. After butting heads with Four all afternoon, I was sure that he should have been acting, well, differently than this. All relaxed and mellow.

"Okay then," I said neutrally, turning back to my locker. I didn't have a plan for what I had even wanted to do though, so I just frowned at the wall. I was still anxious from watching those fights, waiting to be told whether I'd be fighting or not. I restlessly drummed my fingers on the metal grill of the locker, contemplating what would settle me down. I could hear Eric's footsteps petering out, stopping somewhere near the table where we had been working at yesterday.

Scowling, I turned and looked at him. "Why did Four pick Christina to fight Drew? And why did you want me to fight him instead?" I asked him, the need to know overpowering my unease with talking with him. "There were only three of us left and clearly you weren't happy when Four told Christina to fight." I picked at the material of my pants, waiting to see how the temperamental leader would respond.

Eric stilled, stopping whatever he'd been doing at the table. After a moment, he turned and looked at me, leaning against the table with a familiar cocky smile on his face. "You wanted to fight," he said. It wasn't a question.

I nodded in agreement, waiting for him to fill the silence between us. "You actually wanted to fight," he repeated in that same neutral voice.

"Yes," I spat back. Why did he feel it was necessary to repeat what had already been established? To prove he knew everything I was thinking?

"And you still want to fight."

I shifted on my feet, thinking for a moment before answering. "I don't want to be left behind. I want to finish initiation without always having to catch up to what everyone else has already done. Like with shooting yesterday," I replied slowly.

A glint appeared in his eyes and he pushed off from the table, looking like he was heading towards me. His direction changed suddenly and he walked instead to the padded ring. "Then get over here, Tris," he called over his shoulder. "Prove it."

I blinked twice, still amazed by how fast he could change how he acted from one moment to the next. It was enough to give a girl whiplash. "Fight you?" I asked nervously, moving from the lockers to the ring in slow, cautious steps.

He chuckled darkly, turning to watch me as I approached the ring. "You wouldn't be able to fight me without some serious training beyond initiation," he said smugly, "but I can at least show you how to use your strengths against an opponent."

I stepped into the ring, not taking off my boots since Eric hadn't either. No sense in giving him another advantage over me. "Right, so if I have no chance of beating you, what should I do then?" I asked, flexing my fingers.

He started circling around me, his grey eyes looking me over sharply. "From what I see," he answered in a low voice, "you have speed on your side, but not a lot of muscle mass. That'll come from practice and exercise. For right now, you'll want to stay light on your feet and try to out-maneuver your opponent: me."

Nodding my head, I brought my arms up in the blocking position that Four had shown to us. Without waiting to see if Eric was done talking, I darted forward, bringing my right elbow up to collide with his side. Half of a curse escaped his mouth before he moved out of the way, making me grin. It didn't land on him, but I had surprised his cocky ass.

"Like that?" I asked as I slipped back, away from his longer reach and substantially stronger hits. Eric grunted in reply before stepping up to follow me, making two very deliberate and obvious attempts to hit me. By bringing my arms up and dodging I was able to evade both, though the motions made my core muscles twinge.

I retaliated again with a strike to his side, my fist aimed at his exposed ribs. At the last minute, I brought up my opposite leg and kneed him in the other side. When he moved away from my fist, he collided directly with my leg, earning me another swear and a throbbing kneecap. My hit was solid, but so was his torso.

"Nice misdirection," he commented idly, not seeming to be affected by the force of my blow in the slightest. "A little on the slow side, but the idea was solid." He lashed out with a series of blows, all of which I managed to dodge until I slipped on the mat. His fist glanced off my shoulder with enough force to twist my body, allowing his next move to knock me down to the floor.

Eric stopped his assault then, standing over my tangle of feet and arms with a smirk on his face. Goddammit, he was enjoying this. "Again," he said simply, taking two steps back to allow me to stand up on my own.

Gritting my teeth, I pushed off from the ground and we began to spar once more. Almost all of my hits were avoided, his motions smooth as he predicted exactly how I was approaching each attack. Twice more he knocked me off balance and I had to sway heavily in my boots to avoid falling completely. The second time I overcompensated and pushed myself into his chest.

"Steady now," Eric said huskily, splaying one hand on my hip to keep me from falling once more. I pushed against his chest, tearing away from his grip and settling back into a fighting position. Watching his eyes carefully, I rolled my shoulders and tried to clear my mind. That single touch, so very different from any kind of fighting hold, had me flushed and reeling. "Stay focused, Tris," he teased just before lashing out with a quick strike to my side. "Don't let your opponent distract you."

I let the blow land, turning with it so that I could sidestep him and go for his shoulder. Christina had done something similar with Drew, hitting him from the behind to confuse him. Eric was not so easy to surprise, turning quickly to match where I was facing.

I started getting frustrated, and I could tell my attacks were becoming more erratic. I took a blow to the knee and shoulder before I returned with an elbow to Eric's neck. Grinning, I circled quickly behind him and tried to grapple him with an arm thrown around his throat. He ignored my tired kicks to his legs and shifted quickly.

The world spun around me and I stared at the gymnasium ceiling in utter surprise. My breath was knocked out from me as a heavy body pressed me to the ground. "Fuck," I panted, straining my wrists against Eric's hands. I was pinned to the mat, my arms stretched over my head and Eric straddling my hips. His grey eyes were inches from mine, and I suddenly realized just how compromising of a position I was in.

"You tried to choke me out," he said in an amused voice. I blinked, trying to remember just exactly what my plan _had _been before I'd been thrown to the floor. "Next time, don't let me control your balance."

"I'll try to remember that," I growled, trying to wrench my hands free. His grip was like iron and I was getting no closer to freedom. "Shit, I can't get up," I admitted quietly after another moment of fruitless struggling.

Eric raised his pierced eyebrow and just continued to stare down at me. "So? Figure out how to get out," he retorted shortly. He continued to leer over me, staring intently at me as I thought. I would have thought it unnerving if I wasn't trying to break his grip. I gave up wrestling against his hands, exhaustion settling down deep into my arms. It was clear that I wasn't going to be able to brute force my way out of his hold.

An idea came to me after a moment. Not wanting to waste any more time thinking, I lurched forward, slamming my forehead directly into his. Stars encompassed my vision, but I could still feel my wrists enough to tell his grip had slackened. Grunting, I yanked my arms down along the floor, clearing his grip smoothly, and slammed my now-free elbow into the side of his skull.

With a _whoomph_ of air, he rolled to the side. My vision still starry-eyed, I pushed myself to a half-sitting position. "Does that count?" I spat at him, but I didn't have the energy behind it. A low grunt answered me and a rush of pride rolled through me.

"Smart," he admitted after a long pause, "hitting me on the dermals." My head still ringing, it took me a second to place what he meant. I reached up and tenderly touched my own forehead. Twin cuts twinged in pain when I touched the left side. My headbutt had slammed into his piercings directly, stabbing me and hurting him that much more.

We sat there for another minute, silently staring at open air until the head pain cleared. He moved first, grunting slightly as he pushed himself back to a standing position. I wiped my hands on my pants to clean off the pinpricks of blood and followed his lead. "We're done for today," Eric finally said. He looked me over once more, smirking when he got to my forehead.

I nodded and hauled myself off the fighting ring, wanting nothing more than to get to dinner suddenly. The silence in the room was stifling, never mind the intensity in Eric's eyes as he watched me. Over by the lockers, I pulled on my sweatshirt that I'd brought in the morning, already feeling cold from the sudden change of activity. I wiped at my eyebrow again, satisfied when no blood smeared on my fingers. The cuts had already stopped their slow bleeding.

I heard the door open and I looked up to see Eric about to leave. "Wait," I called out. He paused, looking over to me with a hint of surprise. I swallowed hard, but pressed on with the question that had been eating at me. "Could I, I mean, would I have beaten Drew? Earlier, I mean. When you wanted me to fight him." I wanted to believe that I could have, that I had the strength to do it.

"I guess we'll see tomorrow," he replied smoothly. Then, he stepped out of the training room, sliding the door shut behind him. I let out a breath, stuffing my hands into my pockets. That wasn't quite the confidence booster I'd been looking for.

Thinking further on it, I sighed and walked slowly to the hall and down to dinner. Expecting overflowing praise from someone like Eric was pretty stupid, but I would have been happy with a "maybe." Setting my jaw, I quickened my pace. I didn't need his approval to feel like a Dauntless. I'd held my own in training so far and I refused to let these fights psyche me out.

Christina waved me over to the table she'd staked out. Will was next to her, looking pale but smiling all the same. I waved back and walked smoothly over, a smile of my own growing. Today was a good day.

**A/N: I said the title of the story hell yeah ;D You knew it had to come up at least once. Five chapters in seemed like it was overdue to actually establish the theme of this fic. Eric might have his eye on Tris, but he sure as hell isn't going to coddle her or make anything easy for her. If she wants to be Dauntless - if she wants to be more than just some initiate in anyone's eyes *cough cough* - then she has to prove it. **

**Also, fuck fight scenes man. There's only so many ways I can say "they punched at each other" without repeating the same actions, so I hope it was still fascinating.**


	6. Chapter 6

No one felt much like staying up that evening. Even Christina turned in for the night before eleven, nursing her tattooed forearm and black eye. I don't even remember hearing Al's crying, having fallen asleep moments after I pulled the blanket up. Unfortunately, I ended up waking up at the same ungodly hour as yesterday, my system convinced that was the official Dauntless wake-up time now.

Despite my best efforts, I could not coax myself back to sleep. Rather than stare at Al's bunk above me for the next hour and half, I rolled off the bed and got ready for the day. Pulling my hair back into a messy ponytail, I left the dorm and headed in the direction of the training room.

Dauntless was once again quiet and still, the few guards moving around the halls nodding in greeting at me before continuing in whatever they were assigned to do. I cringed at the thought of having to work this early shift every day. Yet another thing to motivate me to rank high in initiation. As if the worry of being Dauntless-not-Divergent in everyone's eyes wasn't enough.

The training room door was closed just like yesterday, and I smiled to myself. This would be nice. No distractions, just some alone time to work on building endurance. I slid it open and went in, discarding my sweatshirt on the bench by the lockers. I thought back to yesterday and recalled how painful running had been.

Stretching should help, I reasoned. The side of the room lit with the still-warming fluorescent lights was totally empty with the exception of the lockers and the empty weapon's table. I double checked my laces on my boots and started to stretch out my legs and core using some of the forms we had been taught in Mid-Levels.

Even stretching stung my muscles, but I gritted my teeth and tried to power through it. I heard the sliding door again, breaking my concentration for a moment. Looking up, I spotted a painfully familiar fauxhawk. Eric. "Still getting up at ungodly hours to show up the newbies?" I called out cheerfully. Since our fighting yesterday I felt like I could rib on him a little - _just_ a little.

His head turned to look over at me in a lazy motion. "It's too early for jokes," he replied in a voice tinged with tiredness. He continued walking and I just shook my head. So much for the terrifying Dauntless leader. Maybe everyone was the same person when they were tired, I mused. Confusing and abrasive Eric had to be tired _sometimes_. Even so, I didn't dare say anything else, returning to my stretching.

Pressing one foot against the bench, I slowly pushed until my leg was completely straight. Leaning over took another bout of gritted teeth and pinpricks of pain. If initiation didn't kill me, my own self-imposed training just might.

"I thought I said it was too early for jokes," Eric remarked snarkily from the other side of the room, "yet here you are calling that stretching." My head snapped up and I mustered up a glare to rival Four's. He'd put down his holster and pistol, as well as taken off his vest. If I hadn't been so insulted, I might have taken a moment to appreciate the sight of his tight, black shirt against his chest.

"Beg pardon?" I replied irritably. Maybe my form wasn't perfect, but I wouldn't have called it a total joke.

Eric smirked and walked over to where I was. "You're getting about half the benefits from actually stretching with how you're standing right now," he explained smugly. I would have thought that by now he'd be bored of showing off to the 'oh so terrible' Abnegation transfer. Clearly it was just too amusing for him.

"Here," he said gruffly, the smugness dropping from his voice as he stepped slightly behind me. "Like this." Eric's left hand slowly twisted my outstretched leg as his right pressed against my hip. The slight change made me hiss as my muscles protested their new position.

"Got it?" he asked, releasing my leg. I nodded, biting my lip as I tried leaning in to the stretch. It felt different, and I could almost reach my toes now. "Good," Eric murmured when I didn't reply aloud. His hand on my hip moved just slightly down, fingertips brushing against my ass.

I moved my leg from the bench and stood up fully, feeling his hand fall away smoothly. "Same for the other leg?" I asked cautiously. _Keep talking. Don't pay attention to what he's doing_, I thought furtively to myself. It was probably just because he was tired.

"Mmm," he murmured in agreement, shifting to my other side. I mirrored the form he'd just shown me before he had the chance to correct it for me. This leg was less stiff and the position didn't hurt even when I started reaching for my toes. "Come on. You can do better than that."

Eric's hand pressed slightly on my back, just below my shoulders. My fingertips curled around the toe of my boot and the muscles in the back of my leg flared with pain. "Shit!" I cried out reflexively. "Don't do that, Eric."

The pressure on my back let up as I straightened back up. He didn't completely remove his hand though, the warmth from it radiating through my tank top. It felt kind of nice, I mused, my cheeks burning when I realized exactly what I was thinking. Hell, I hadn't blushed like this when he'd been feeling up my ass a moment ago.

"It's going to hurt for a few days until you've loosened up, _Stiff_," Eric retorted. He said the Abnegation slur lightly, genuinely teasing about my inability to stretch. I turned to face him directly, switching to a stretch that I knew he wouldn't be able to get handsy with. Whatever was going on right now, I didn't want to continue. Not while I was trying to figure out how I fit in here at Dauntless, and certainly not while I was still finishing waking up.

Holding my foot behind me to stretch the front of my thighs, I tried clearly my face of anything except a bland half-smile. "So are you going to let me actually run-" _switch feet, don't look at his tight clinging shirt _"- or are you just going to limber me up for breakfast?" I asked half-jokingly.

Eric smiled blithely before he kicked his leg past me, resting it on the bench, the same form I'd just done. "Oh, I'm almost done with you," he replied smoothly, reaching to touch the toe of his shoe with apparently no issue at all.

"Great." My voice squeaked tightly. The closeness between the pair of us was unnerving. When he switched legs, I shuffled awkwardly out of the way to avoid his shoulder brushing against me as he stretched. I switched legs again, not wanting to just stand there next to him while he was at least doing _something_.

"If you're so antsy to run, then you should just go," Eric ordered. I cast a sideways glance at him, not sure if this was another of his strange tests. He turned his head slightly to look up at me. "Just go."

I skittered a few steps away from him before my brain caught up with me. Slowly I began jogging, sighing softly. If I kept this up, he was going to think I was a complete freak, incapable of deciding to do anything myself.

Screw that, I thought to myself, my mouth pursing together in a determined scowl. I was Dauntless now and I was not going to be intimidated by some cocky faction leader. My breathing settled evenly as my strides leveled out. My jogging pace set and my mind made up, I focused entirely on my run.

I finished one lap, noticing Eric as he rounded the corner just ahead of me. He'd finished stretching and was already moving at a faster pace that I was. I gritted my teeth and sped up just a bit more. My calves stung from the effort, but I could still breath fairly well.

Two more laps later and my pace hadn't dropped down despite the slow creep of fire into my lungs. I'd lost track exactly of where Eric was, no longer able to spot him in my peripheral vision. He was probably creeping up steadily behind me, a thought that would have irritated me if I was a competitive person. No, I wasn't irritated at all when I head the footfalls behind me.

I passed by the weapons table for the fourth time before Eric brushed past me. I scowled, but otherwise wasn't going to let it mess up the pacing I'd perfected. Then he tilted his head back and, clear as daylights, winked at me.

A challenge. Come and get me.

"Oh, come on," I growled under my breath. Already he was at least ten paces ahead. My level-headedness forgotten, I pumped my arms and tried to coax my tired legs to go faster.

Rounding the door of the room, I managed to match Eric's speed. My lungs were burning, but I was determined to catch up with the cocky ass. Another half-lap around and I managed to half the distance between us.

Eric glanced behind to look at me again, faltering for a step or two from the motion. I saw his mouth form a startled "oh" as he caught himself. I grinned and powered ahead, a burst of adrenaline coursing through me in the moment.

Three, two, one more step and I was even with Eric, my strides shorter but faster than his. "Let me guess," I panted in short bursts, "this isn't even your fastest pace." I snuck a glance at him, smirking when I noticed he was breathing fairly hard as well. I wasn't the only one tiring from our little "race."

"Something like that," he retorted with a matching smirk. "But I reserve that for 'showing up' full members rather than initiates." We ran together for almost an entire lap before my legs threatened to give out from under me.

"Fuck, I'm out," I admitted as I dropped from sprinting to trotting tiredly. I'd lost count of exactly how many times I'd lapped the room, but I knew it wasn't close to my mental goal I'd started with this morning.

Eric grunted in agreement and slowed to match my speed. I trotted to finish the lap, ending up by the lockers once more. When I stopped jogging finally, my legs ached and my back was drenched in sweat. I could feel my hair sticking to the back of my neck, the strands that had escaped my ponytail coiled uncomfortably against my skin.

Sitting down seemed like a double-edged sword, as I was afraid I wasn't going to be able to stand back up again once I did. Instead I found an unopened water bottle and cracked it open, gulping down three mouthfulls with a content sigh.

Lurking in my peripheral vision, Eric searched the benches with a scowl. He looked over at me and let out a huff. "Do you enjoy taking people's things, Tris?" he asked, looking pointedly at me. "That's not very Abnegation at all."

I tipped my head slightly, not following what he meant. "Beg pardon?" I replied, confused. I went to take another sip of water before I realized what had happened. "Shit, sorry," I backpedaled, capping the bottle loosely and holding it out to him. I hadn't brought a water this morning, having forgotten to grab one on my way past the pit.

He smirked and snagged the bottle from my hand with a smooth motion. "Sure you are," he teased, taking a hearty gulp. Without capping it, he passed it back to me. I couldn't place the expression in his eyes as he continued to stare at me. "Keep it. I still need to get a coffee to wake up."

I took the water bottle back, not knowing what else to say. "Thanks," I finally replied. "I'll try to remember my own next time." Eric nodded and finally broke his stare, walking to collect his things from the weapons table. I turned around so he wouldn't see the smile I couldn't keep off my face.

Next time. Like this was a thing, a habit between the pair of us. I could get used to this, training and competing against Eric. I wouldn't call it a true competition, not when he had two years of Dauntless training over me, but it made me feel like I had something to work towards. A challenge to overcome, like his taunting wink earlier.

I left before he did, calling out a gentle, "seeya," over my shoulder when I slid through the doorway.

**A/N: So this chapter was supposed to be posted *checks calendar* approximately forever ago. I had a really hectic week this week and originally wanted to have at least one more scene in it. Alas, that didn't happen and I got a few requests to update sooner rather than later!**

**Feedback, as always, is appreciated! It motivates me so, so much to see what you guys think about how the story is developing and what you think is happening between the characters.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I want to dedicate this chapter to my good friends Alli and Matt, both of whom are reading this (albeit Matt hasn't progressed farther than Ch 2 as of this chapter - READ FASTER YOU FECKLESS WH*RE). Somehow I've turned Alli into an equally obsessed Eris fan and Matt is just too nice to not do what I force him to do, so THANKS GUYS =^.^=**

**Also, some people have been adding comments/reviews (depending on the site) asking for updates. I don't mind, but if you want to have a more direct way of telling how close I am to an update, you should follow my Twitter (firelord65) and ask me there~! Also I'm just hilarious in general, clearly, so you should definitely hit me up.**

**But without further ado, have some more of this thing I'm calling "legit writing."**

The compound was busier now than it had been when I'd first woken up. I passed by a group of dependents who were playing some kind of tag in the dark halls, twinkling my fingers in a wave. When I got to the dining hall, I settled into line and hunted down one of the coveted double-chocolate muffins. It wasn't as rich as the infamous Dauntless cake, but the sugar and carbs would keep me from starving during training.

I smiled blithely at the few Dauntless who made eye contact with me. Despite the faction's outward appearance, I didn't find too many people here who actively disliked us initiates.

Searching for any familiar faces, I noticed Four sitting at a table with Lauren and some other younger members of Dauntless. _Speaking of people who didn't seem to like initiates_, I mused internally. I ignored that section of the hall and settled on a table tucked close to the wall opposite to the spread of food. When Christina or any of our other friends came in, they'd be sure to come over and join me.

Settling into the seat, I sipped at my stolen water bottle and peeled the wrapper off of my muffin. Al and Will joined me soon after, with Al looking far worse for wear despite having won yesterday's fight. "Good morning!" Will greeted cheerfully, all smiles as he set down his tray of sliced fruit and cereal.

I replied with a slightly less chipper greeting, popping another piece of my muffin in my mouth. "Dammit," Al sighed. "What time do you have to get up to get one of those?"

I shrugged and raised an eyebrow teasingly. "Early enough," I replied, trying to remain mysterious. "I don't want to reveal all my secrets or you'll be taking the last one instead of me."

Christina came in at this point, her hair damp from the shower and a plain chocolate chip muffin in hand. "Oh, you jerk," she started off without even saying hello. "How'd you get a double chocolate one?"

Al stood and switched sides so that Christina could sit down, smiling nervously at me as he sat next to me. I didn't smile back, not quite following why he didn't let Christina sit there instead. The difference between sitting against the wall or facing it was the matter of two steps.

"She woke up before the dawn and stalked the bakers, apparently," Will answered Christina sarcastically. "Or so Tris wants us to believe. She won't even share, either," he added with an exaggerated pout.

That made me laugh and I tore off a bit of the top to give to him. "I didn't say _anything _like that. Feel free to wake up whenever you think they'll be available and see for yourself," I chuckled. "For now, though, I'll be enjoying this hard earned _delicacy_ by myself."

Christina rolled her eyes good-naturedly. After taking another bite of her breakfast she mumbled through crumbs, "So is that cut over your eyes also a big secret, too? Because Will and I have a betting pool going on how you got it. Smart money's on tripping, but I've got a feeling it's more interesting than that."

My hand flew up to my eyebrow, and I flushed when I felt the twin indents from yesterday. I'd completely forgotten about the marks from my sparring with Eric. "Oh," I stammered with uncertainty. "I, ah, slammed my head into the side of the lockers. Stretching over there is a risk if you've got bad balance."

"Hmm," Christina murmured. She didn't sound convinced. "See, I thought maybe you were playing tonsil hockey with someone who has more metal than face," she suggested casually, continuing to eat her food.

I choked on my next bite, having inhaled a piece of chocolate. "Uhm, what?" I replied weakly. Will was laughing hard, pounding a fist on the table. Al looked mortified, his face almost as red as mine. "Tonsil...hockey?"

Christina smirked and made an exaggerated kissing motion. "You know, getting friendly with the natives. Was it one of the Dauntless initiates? Cal's got a nice face even with all those eyebrow piercings," she teased, her smile wicked.

I felt mortified by the suggestion of it. Back home, kissing a guy was something completely private. Hell, _holding hands _was scandalous if you weren't in a committed relationship. Christina suggesting that I was making out with some random Dauntless-born was just embarrassing. On top of all of that, the way that I'd _actually_ gotten cut was embarrassing considering the position that Eric and I had been in. I could only imagine what Christina would think if she saw Eric pinning me to the ground. Or what she would say.

"That is so not what happened," I replied urgently. "Honest to God, there's no way I'd do… that." My face still felt warm, though, and I wished to every deity known or unknown that I could stop getting embarrassed by literally anything.

Will was still laughing, shaking his head. "I can't get that image out of my head," he managed to say between laughs.

"Neither can I," Al growled, looking solidly away from me. Christina looked pleased with herself as the conversation turned to the relative attractiveness of our fellow initiates. I returned to eating my muffin, one hand self-consciously covering my forehead.

When we were heading to the training room, Christina gently bumped her shoulder into me. "Hey, you know I'm just kidding, right? About the making out," she said.

I nodded and smiled at her. "I figured," I replied casually. It was nice, though, that she was saying something about it instead of just assuming I was ok with it. I _was _okay with it, despite how weird it might feel to joke about that kind of thing.

"I mean, the fact that you think I'd stoop to Cal's level gave it all away," I teased her in response, elbowing her gently. "Do you really think I'd be into curly haired ginger boys? Come on." That made her laugh loudly.

Will turned to look back at the noise, but we just shook our heads. "Don't worry about it," Christina said to him. "We're laughing about girly things." She waggled her fingers and pursed her lips, the image of a stuck up girly-girl.

"Wait, the Stiff's a girl?" I heard Peter call out from the training room as we entered. "Could've fooled me." He was standing with Drew and Molly by the door, looking especially arrogant.

Before I could summon up a retort Four was calling for everyone to circle up by the fighting ring. I swallowed my anger, a bubble of nervousness suddenly swelling up within me. I'd almost forgotten that we were fighting again today. At least I wasn't as nervous as Al looked. He was positively green, walking so slowly to the mat that you'd think he was going to his execution.

"This morning we're starting off with fighting. Remember what you learned yesterday and try to show some improvement," Four barked, his arms crossed firmly over his chest. God, did he ever lighten up?

Behind him was the chalkboard with names already paired up in matches. I swallowed hard when I saw my name was first, paired off with Myra. I looked over at her and felt some of my nerves dissipate. She'd gone down fairly quickly against Peter. Will had mentioned before that she was Edward's girlfriend and that she'd joined Dauntless just to follow him, presumably without actually possessing the aptitude for it. On top of all that, she looked just as uneasy as I felt.

Four pointed to Myra and then to me, summoning us to the mat. "First match is between Myra and Tris. Same rules as yesterday apply," he announced.

"You got this," Christina whispered to me as I tugged off my boots and socks. I nodded, giving her one last smile before hopping up onto the raised matting. I bounced on the balls of my feet, adjusting to the chalk-covered mat. It felt strange under my feet and I longed to put my boots back on, like I had yesterday.

Thinking of yesterday, I glanced quickly around the room while Myra slowly unlaced her other shoe. There was no sign of Eric anywhere. Disappointment twinged through me, though I quickly buried the feeling. Gritting my teeth I turned my attention back to my opponent. The only thing that mattered was this fight. _Winning _this fight.

Myra put her arms up stiffly, standing rigidly where she'd stopped. I slowly brought up my own guard and took a few tentative steps towards her. The brunette watched me warily, only stepping back when I got within arms length of her.

I squinted, analyzing her carefully. I hadn't paid attention to her fight yesterday against Peter, but even just looking at her now I formed a fighting strategy. She was nervous and far too stagnant in her motions.

Darting two steps forward, I lashed a fist out directly at her face. Myra gasped and threw her arm out to block the blow. Her block went wide and I easily followed up with my other fist, striking her cheekbone easily. She let out a whimper and batted at me with an open hand.

It was a weak response, one that I let land on my shoulder before I threw my knee up. I struck her side, glancing off her ribs ineffectively. My aim was off, and I growled under my breath in aggravation.

"Come on, Myra!" Edward called out hopefully from the sidelines. From the corner of my eye I saw Will jab an elbow 'accidentally' into the other boy's side and it made me smirk. Myra was backpedalling away from me, circling around the ring with frantic backwards steps.

_This was hardly even a match_, I thought wryly to myself as I quickly darted to the right. I cut her off from her circling, throwing a series of punches to her side that were straight from one of the cycles that Four had taught us. She blocked about half of them by sheer luck, wincing each time that my fists collided with her ribcage.

By chance she lashed out and struck me across my collarbone, her fist slamming hard into my still-healing tattoo. A wave of pain coursed through me and I staggered back, cursing. That _hurt_ like a motherfu-.

_Slam_. My fist collided with her upraised arm. _Crunch_. I grabbed her retaliating strike, squeezing her fingers tightly together. _Bam, bam, bam._ I swept one leg behind hers and kicked her leg out from under her, kicking her shins until she slammed onto the mat.

I wrapped her arm tightly behind her back, ignoring her strangled cry of pain. She kicked weakly at me, but she didn't have enough force to reach me where I was perched just above her. I drew back my free hand and curled it into a tight fist. Just when I was about to let loose a knockout move, Four's voice echoed through the room.

"Tris, stop," he called out loudly. I looked up at him, loosening my hold on Myra's arm. His expression was unreadable, which made me uncomfortable. Myra dragged herself away from me, silent tears streaking down her face as she favored the arm I'd twisted.

I pushed myself back up and hopped off of the mat over by Christina and Al. My heartbeat was still pounding in my ears from the fight, leftover adrenaline and nerves making me feel all fluttery. I barely noticed Al's congratulatory clap on the shoulder.

I'd won. I'd beaten Myra in minutes with barely a mark on me. It didn't matter to me in that moment that she was probably the worst fighter in the group. The unease and worry that had been nested in my stomach all yesterday had smoothed out, leaving me feeling elated.

Will and Edward were stepping into the ring. Four circled my name on the chalkboard and I felt another surge of emotion. Pride, that was what it was. Grinning ferociously, I cheered for Will when he took his fighting stance. Finally I had something I could be legitimately proud of. I could be proud of _myself_, something so non-Abnegation that I could burst from happiness.

The two boys squared off in the ring and my voice joined in the growing din of encouraging cheering.


	8. Chapter 8

Christina held her hand out, pulling Al off of the mat with a frown creasing her face. He'd gone down after two minutes of awkward sparring between the two of them. I looked over at Four. He didn't seem to be very impressed overall. He circled Christina's name on the chalkboard and tossed the chalk down angrily.

"Right, so now that you've gotten at the very least one fight under your belt, you should be understanding the physical demands of being a Dauntless soldier," he said gruffly once the ring was clear. "Every day we will continue these fights. Try to use them as opportunities to further your skills, both physical and mental."

"Or just let out your frustrations and beat up whoever's ranked above you," someone called out from the entrance of the room. I twisted my head and stared as Eric sauntered in. Everyone else looked as well, Four sighing not-so-subtly. I frowned, not enjoying the idea that Eric pretty much wanted us to fight just for the sake of fighting. His smirk caught my eye, though, and I reconsidered what he said. It could have been a joke, much like his remarks to me this morning.

The idea lodged itself in my head and I made a mental note to stop assuming every comment that someone from Dauntless made was legitimately as ruthless as it sounded. Christina rolled her eyes and mouthed "what a prick" at me. I shrugged, keeping my thoughts to myself. It was still fairly likely that Eric legitimately was an ass who really _did_ just want us to beat each other up for his entertainment.

Four was looking at Eric blithely, masking his irritation better now. "What can I do for you, Eric? We just finished up today's fights," he said in a polite voice.

Eric continued to smirk as he pulled out a set of metal keys, spinning them idly on his finger. "That works out perfectly, then. Lauren's group was going to take a trip out to the fence to observe the guard lines there. So I thought to myself, why not bring both groups and save the convoy trucks from making the same trip again," he replied smoothly.

His brow furrowing, Four crossed his arms and stepped closer to where Eric was standing. "Why not take the trains?"

"Because the trucks already have the sniper rifles loaded up and I couldn't remember when the next train was due in."

"Ten thirty," Four answered automatically, not even looking up at the clock over the door. After a beat he added, "I wasn't going to even try working on sniping until they've had more time with the other firearms."

We shifted uncomfortably in our loose circle by the fighting ring. Peter was shushing Drew, paying rapt attention to the conversation between the two other guys. Al edged closer to where I was standing, wearing his usual concerned expression.

Eric stopped spinning the keyring and gave Four a withering look. "The Dauntless-born aren't going to be working at the same time with the transfers, and I've already cleared out a section of the fence for target practice. So gather up your initiates and get to the motorpool," he ordered.

Turning on his heel, he stalked out of the room before Four could protest further. I snickered slightly, turning it into a cough when Four turned to look at the group. His frustration was aimed at us now and he pointed sharply to the door. "You heard him," he growled unhappily. "Go!"

I followed Will and Al towards the door, chewing on my bottom lip. Molly stomped past Four, fuming after being left out of the latest fights. "Where even is the motorpool?" she asked irritably. "We hardly even know where in this stupid complex to go half the time."

I bit back a laugh, choking on the bubble of air in my chest. _She honestly was giving Four shit right now? After Eric just yanked on his metaphorical collar?_ Will raised an eyebrow and looked back at me, wincing as the motion pulled on his most recent bruises. Edward hadn't pulled any punches earlier.

"You need to learn to shut your mouth when you feel like making smart-ass comments," Four growled, his voice dangerously low. "Follow one of your more intelligent friends. Or learn to read the signs on the walls. But don't talk to your direct superior like he owes _you _for not paying attention to anything."

Everyone stepped just a bit faster and jogged down through the halls to the motorpool. I only vaguely remembered Four pointing it out to us after we'd come in to Dauntless. The garage doors leading out were rolled open, bright sunlight streaming in through the gaping openings. Gray heavy plated trucks lined the bays, some with doors thrown open, engines idling, and others stood dormant, massive testaments to the brute force that the Dauntless army wielded.

Four stalked over to where Lauren was standing, her initiates lounging on the seats and handrails of a pair of idling trucks. "Four," she grunted in greeting. "I see Eric told you about today's plan."

"All of six minutes ago," he replied, still less-than-amused.

Lauren barked out a laugh and shook her head. "I can't say I'm surprised. Sorry, I mean to talk to you about this at dinner yesterday," she admitted sheepishly.

"Trouble in paradise," Christina whispered, nudging me in the shoulder.

I snickered and rolled my eyes. "Dissent among the ranks is more like it," I whispered back. "Though they're the same rank, technically, right?"

"Who knows?"

"Who cares?" Al interjected, his hands stuffed firmly into his pockets. "So long as we're taking a break from fighting, they can bicker all morning long."

Someone called out for everyone to pile into the trucks. From what I gathered, the Dauntless born were getting dropped at the target practice zone first and then we would get driven back to the fence line.

"Speaking of fighting," Christina started in a disarmingly gentle voice, "what the fuck happened in that ring, Al?"

I gripped the hanging strap that drooped in front of me from the roof as the truck lurched into motion. Al had managed to sneak into the seat next to mine, forcing Christina to sit across from me on the other side. Now she was glaring at him, ice shooting from her eyes.

His foot started bouncing up and down nervously, and the tall boy refused to meet her gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about," he retorted quickly. That was a lie, obviously. Everyone in the truck knew he'd thrown the fight. He wasn't fooling anyone.

Christina didn't let up. "Oh, so you expect me to believe that the guy who dropped Will in twenty seconds flat couldn't land a single blow on a girl half his size," she spat angrily.

"It was a tough fight," Al said lamely. I couldn't resist the urge to roll my eyes. It was about as tough as my fight with Myra, if not easier.

"No, Will fighting Edward was tough."

"Aw, shucks, Christina," Edward remarked from further down her side of the truck. "That's awfully nice of you."

"Shut up, I'm busy telling Al off," she retorted, though she did smile for a moment. "Seriously, man, what the fuck? You're not helping anyone by not fighting. And you're certainly not helping yourself."

The quiet boy lifted one shoulder, staring intently at his boots. "I don't want to hurt people I know," he said sadly.

A dark skinned boy - he must have been one of the Dauntless-born initiates - piped up. "Wow, I didn't realize we had taken in an Amity transfer," he said sarcastically. "Seriously, man, if you're not going to try to fight, you don't stand a chance. Fighting is _kind of important_ for Dauntless."

Al seemed to collapse even further into himself, his head in his hands and finally I felt compelled to say something. "Wouldn't you rather fight Christina now than get kicked out to live factionless? It's not like you're going to actually hurt someone permanently anyways," I offered quietly.

His head nodded slowly, though he didn't stop cradling it in his hands. "Thanks, Tris," he mumbled, his words muffled.

I grumbled "you're welcome" and made a face at Christina. _Why oh why was Al so difficult to deal with? Couldn't he figure this shit out by himself? _The conversation stayed on the topic of fights as Peter started to interrogate the Dauntless-born about their rankings.

Gritting my teeth, I stared unseeing at the metal-plated ceiling. Comparing Christina and Al's to my fight versus Myra had made me reconsider this morning's triumph. It really had been too easy of a fight. I didn't even have a bruise on me, having dodged Myra's blows that might have actually left a mark. Compared to Will, I looked positively pristine. I could have easily blended right back in with Abnegation.

The thought made my blood boil. I wanted to belong here, in Dauntless. I wanted to look the part, dammit, even if it meant taking a punch - an _actual_ punch.

Hell, I'd gotten more beaten up sparring with Eric.

The truck lurched, making me grip the hanging strap more tightly. We'd gone around a tight corner and now our small convoy was barrelling faster down the road towards the fence. "Alright, listen up," Four called out from the front of the truck. His voice echoed as he spoke into a radio, apparently talking to the truck behind ours as well.

"We're going to cross past the fence checkpoint to drop off Lauren's group at the practice range. You're all going to suit up in tactical gear, especially when working outside of the fence," he continued. "This isn't some Mid-Level field trip to the pier."

I looked over at Christina and raised my eyebrows in amusement. Four continued over the intercom, "After the Dauntless-born have their gear, Transfers are going to go back to the fence to walk the line with one of the squad leaders. If we're lucky, Amity will have a shipment coming through and you can observe the procedures at the checkpoint. If not, then the Dauntless-born will see them after the switch off."

Al made a face at the prospect of walking - was there anything about initiation he enjoyed? - much to my chagrin. He was insistent in catching my eye for every little reaction he had. I was getting very tired of chuckling at his every complaint. It came to me suddenly that I was under no obligation to actually indulge him, now that I was Dauntless, which made it easier for me to shake my head slowly in reply this time.

His crestfallen expression made my heart twinge guiltily. Was this really how I wanted to treat my newfound friend? The truck slammed over a large pothole, breaking into my thoughts and saving me from any further introspection.

"Any questions, keep them to yourself until we offload," Four said in conclusion, clicking the radio receiver off. The truck remained silent for a few minutes before the conversation trickled back into existence. Something about being only initiates rather than full members kept us from being quite so rowdy as typical Dauntless, which suited me just fine.

I made a few remarks in response to Christina or Al's conversations, laughing when Christina pointed out how great it was going to be to use a sniper scope with her black eye. "Hey, I'm just glad to be right handed," I chuckled. "Otherwise, _bam!_ Rifle straight to the tattoos." I feigned firing, bumping my fist into my shoulder to emphasize the point.

The truck cruised to a halt completely as we all laughed. Four was out the door in seconds, hauling the passenger door open moments later. "Everybody out! Two people each grab a crate," he ordered. For once he wasn't barking at us, his commands just loud over the clamoring voices.

About half the group piled out as the others worked to haul out the steel gray cargo bins. I hefted one side of the last crate from our truck alongside the Dauntless-born who had told Al off for not wanting to fight. Jumping out while still holding my end was awkward, but I landed on my feet without too much concentration.

"You got it?" the dark skinned boy asked before hopping out. The sudden change in weight stung my arms, but the crate didn't fall.

Small victories.

We hefted it over to where Lauren, Four, and Eric were standing. Lauren checked the stamp on the side of the crate and gestured for us to open it up. "That's got the tactical vests. Like Four said, everyone gets one," she repeated quickly before turning back to talk with the other trainers. The boy - I really needed to learn my fellow initiates names - and I snapped back the latches and he hauled the top open.

"Wicked," he said with a grin. He pulled out one of the heavy black vests and scrutinized it. "Here Tris, this isn't going to fit me."

I took the vest and slid it over my tank top. He was right - it was just barely my size. "Thanks, uh…" I paused, not knowing how to address him.

He took pity on me, chuckling and flashing me a grin. "Uriah," he supplied as he pulled out two more vests. I nodded and committed his name to memory, glad to find another person who didn't immediately despise me because of my Abnegation heritage. Uriah passed one of the vests to me, donning the other.

Peter - speak of the devil and he shall appear - stalked over and snatched the heavy bulletproof vest from my hand. "Maybe if you ask nicely they'll let you wear that vest when you fight, Stiff," he sneered. "Then you might have a shot at beating someone with actual skill."

I scowled, one hand curling into a tight fist. "Screw off, Peter," I retorted. His cronies, Drew and Molly, were right behind him. Drew stepped past me "accidentally" shoving my shoulder with his. "I'm not scared of you or your friends, so you can stop with the shitty intimidation."

That only made him smirk more as he pulled his vest on. "Oh, I'm not trying to scare you, Stiff. I just want you to be good and prepared for when you get cut in a few days," he replied casually. "It's going to be real sad, but I think the rest of us _actual_ Dauntless will make it through."

Uriah twitched at that remark, turning to face Peter with a wry smile. "Don't you dare equate yourself to me or any of us Dauntless-born, Candor," he said in a sickly sweet voice. "Not when you're criticizing another Transfer just because. That's just petty _and_ cowardly."

A girl with purple streaks through her hair came up from behind Uriah, a rifle slung over her shoulder and an ammo box on her hip. "Yeah, boys, you just keep enjoying dress up while we go shoot," she said snarkily.

Peter's face twisted in barely contained rage and he stormed off, shadowed by Molly - in a vest that was far too small for her - and a jogging Drew. I wanted to say something clever to his retreating back, but everything I could think of was just unimpressive. I turned back to Uriah and his friend to help hand out the rest of the vests.

Once everyone had strapped on the tactical gear, including the vests, helmets, and thick goggles to protect from the wind and dust, the Dauntless-born hustled off to follow Lauren. Four ordered us to re-load the trucks with the empty cargo, and we were off to the checkpoint.

Christina, Will, Al, and I were the only initiates in the truck with Four. The rest of us transfers had gotten into the first truck with Eric, also conveniently leaving most of the cargo crates for us to load up. Will vowed to push all of them, especially Edward, off the edge of the fence when we got up there. I offered to help as my goggles fogged up from the effort of hauling in a third case.

Five more minutes of quiet driving brought us to the break in the fence that was our destination. The trucks cruised up to the massive hydraulic lift gate, stopping smoothly by the concrete checkpoint booth. A Dauntless guard geared up in the same tactical gear as ours hustled over to the first truck's passenger side. Eric's head peered out from it as he presumably informed the guard what we were doing.

The exchange between them was short - the fact that Eric was a Leader probably made the whole thing just a formality - and the guard soon waved both trucks through the lift gate. Just like that, we were outside of the wall, ambling along the dirt road that led to Amity farms and beyond.

"This is crazy," Will said under his breath. He was standing up, craning his neck to see out the dusty front windows. "We're actually outside of the walls right now."

Four must have heard the second part. "That's right, since none of you were Amity this is your first time past the fence, isn't it?" he called out to the four of us in the rear.

"Yeah," Will replied. He stepped closer to the front of the truck, grabbing onto the back of Four's chair to steady himself. "I've never seen so much open space before."

I found myself also moving to get closer to the view. The thick glass didn't do it justice, though, and I tugged open the door closest to me instead. "Oh damn," I blurted out, unable to hold back my thoughts. My hand wrapped tightly around the grab bar above the door and I just stared out into the _openness_ of the world.

The seventy-foot tall fence stretched and curved to my left, wrapping tightly around the city. Beyond that was a sea of dried grass slowly becoming alive, butting up against a forest of deep, verdant green. Past the forest lay the patchwork fields of Amity's farms and pastures. And farther beyond that, narrow and nearly invisible against the horizon, was just open nothingness.

It was beautiful.

I stood there, transfixed, as the trucks slowly turned rightwards, following the arching pathway that encircled the fence. Only the rumbling of the engines could be heard for at least an entire minute and we just stared at the world beyond Chicago.

"I'm so glad I left Candor," Christina said quietly, breaking the silence. The three of us murmured in somber agreement.

I wasn't sure how long we spent in the humid air outside. We'd walked - jogged, really - the top of the fence back to the checkpoint and listened to one of the more seasoned guards talk about the dangers and demands of working the fence. Now my legs were aching and I was dying for something to eat.

The group was spread out by the open gate, waiting for Eric to return with the trucks and their drivers. A call had gone out from Amity farms that had the trucks tearing across the dusty landscape at a breakneck pace. That had been over an hour ago at this point.

Will was watching the horizon, a hand held over his eyes to block out the afternoon sun. "There's someone coming up, finally," he called out when a cloud of dust resolved itself into a gray blob.

Christina and I scrambled to our feet, more than ready to get out of the hot air. _Come on, even just one truck could fit all nine of us and Four._ I prayed for a respite from the boredom that was fence guard duty.

The dust cloud got closer and I felt my hopes come crashing down. I recognized the open cab and the cargo hold in the back. It was a shipping truck from Amity, fully loaded with produce for the factions inside the wall. It groaned to a halt outside of the checkpoint, the Amity inside turning off the engine like they did this every day. They probably did, actually.

"You two," the current checkpoint guard pointed to myself and Myra, "go around back and make sure there's nothing funny going on. No factionless scumbags hitching a ride in."

I nodded and jogged over to the rear of the truck. Atop a pile of bagged grains sat a small cluster of red and yellow clad boys and girls. They had to be initiates, no older than Caleb or Edward. "Alright," I said nervously, my hands fidgeting behind my back. "Everyone off the truck. My colleague Myra's going to look over your cargo for a routine inspection."

The words came to me instantly, the only thing I could think to say to get them to think we had a clue what we were doing. Myra's eyes were wide with panic, but she held it together as the Amity initiates happily complied.

"Sure thing, Miss," one of the boys chirped as he hopped off the tailgate, and I realized I recognized his voice. I'd heard Robert say the same thing countless times as he helped a neighbor with their bags or the men carry a heavy piece of furniture.

As clear as daylight, my former neighbor smiled with blinding cheerfulness at me, completely at ease with his position in Amity. "Oh, Beatrice!" Robert greeted. "I barely recognized you with your hair down like that. And the mask, wow, that is fierce."

I felt my back stiffen in response to hearing my old name. "It's Tris now," I insisted immediately. Then, because I didn't want to seem rude to my former friend, I added, "New name for a new life, you know?" Myra scrambled up onto the bed of the truck, looking furtively around for anything odd. I was grateful that she missed hearing my old name. There was no telling if she'd share that information with Peter or Molly, who I was certain would love to harp on my old fashioned name.

Robert nodded quickly, his hands folding in front of him only for a moment before darting again to move animatedly as he spoke. "So you're doing well in Dauntless? Already getting assignments and work details out here at the checkpoint? We pass through here twice a day so I'm surprised I haven't seen you before today."

"Something like that," I said with a wry smile. "Observing the different details that are available." I didn't dare explain further, nor did I want to seem overly chummy with my former faction members. If "Faction before Blood" was such a big deal, "Faction before ex-Friends" was an absolute truth.

He started to ramble about how Amity was so different and "so much more freeing than Abnegation!" I nodded and smiled at all the right bits, but I also knew that I had a job to do. Cutting him off before he could explain exactly what farm animals he'd gotten to wrangle up so far, I asked the other initiates what faction they were from.

Like ducklings they all answered "Amity," which was rather obvious. I chewed on my lower lip and tried to think of something better to ask to verify that they weren't secretly factionless. Each of them answered my questions of the other factions current leaders and who their initiation leader was.

Their bright smiles and near-constant laughing was pretty much proof enough that they were all Amity through and through, but I'd wanted to be thorough. Satisfied that my job was done, I went back to talking with Robert. "So have you, you know, shot anyone yet?" he asked in a hushed voice. His friends had all jumped back onto the truck when Myra awkwardly yelled to the Dauntless guard that they weren't smugglers.

I looked at Robert incredulously. "You think we shoot people just for kicks in Dauntless?" I asked in a stunned voice. The rest of the factions might think us reckless or "hellians," but shooting an actual person was pretty far off from there.

He shrugged and I saw a bit of the old Robert there. "No offence intended, Be- er I mean Tris. Just curious I guess," he said sheepishly. "You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to."

A rumbling was coming from the dirt pathway, this time sounding louder than the single Amity truck. "No, Robert, you're fine," I insisted. I still had some Abnegation left in me, too. "I mean, we do fight each other, so I guess it wouldn't be _too_ crazy to also shoot each other up."

"Stupid, maybe," he laughed.

I nodded and laughed as well. "Yeah, right? Let's injure our new recruits to the warrior faction," I said with mock seriousness.

He jutted his jaw in the direction of my fellow transfers. "Some of you guys look pretty beat up," he said shortly. I waited a minute for him to add anything.

"And?"

"And nothing. Just commenting that your initiation seems to be a bit rougher than others. If it was too rough, I'd bet Abnegation would take you back," he offered with another shrug. "It'd be a lot safer and calmer than living with the warriors."

My hands clenched in fists quickly. "Yeah, well it's also where I belong now," I spat angrily. I wasn't sure where this flare up of anger was coming from, but I wasn't going to fight it. The implication that I was going to turn tail and run away from Dauntless was beyond insulting to me. And then to add insult to injury Robert thought I'd break faction law and beg to go back to Abnegation?

"I'm not some flower loving, cow hugging hippie like you," I growled, my anger continuing in a rush of words. "I'm sure as _hell_ not going to throw away the chance to grow and do something for _myself_ for the first time in my life, either. So don't you dare suggest I'd ever want to run away from Dauntless because it was too rough for me. You don't know me."

Robert's face was ashen by the time I finished. Somewhere within me was a girl in Abnegation grey who felt terrible for shouting at him. But she was far overwhelmed by the fury of a Dauntless initiate waving a gun at all who opposed her.

He swallowed once, twice, and then nodded shakily. "Right, of course not," he said practically in a whimper. "I-...Your new friends are leaving. You should probably go, too."

I whirled around, having completely missed the pair of convoy trucks when they'd passed through the lift gate. I'd fallen entirely into a tunnel of anger and self-righteousness. "Thanks," I said reflexively, turning on my heel to run towards the plated vehicles.

I almost thought he hadn't heard me until I caught the sound of Robert calling out, "Go with happiness, Tris!" Trust an Amity to forgive my rage that quickly. Or maybe trust an ex-Abnegation to put selfish anger behind them equally as fast.

My legs pounded on the hard-packed earth as I ran to the convoy. My heart rate spiked - or maybe it just stopped for a second - when I realized they were starting to lurch forward. Goddammit, why didn't they wait for me? How did Will or Al or Christina not notice I wasn't in the truck?

I pushed harder, trying to make it to the side of the truck. There was a small set of steps to the door and a grab bar. I just had to make it five more steps, four, three-

The ground under me dipped, a pothole from some settling stone worsened by last week's rain, and I almost rolled under the very truck I was trying to get onto. The passenger door slid open and someone - the goggles and black combat gear made everyone look the same - leaned out the open door.

I regained my step and darted quickly to land one foot onto the stairs. My hand grabbed blindly for the grab bar and crushed around the guy's shoulder instead. "Shiiiit!" I shrieked, the motion of the truck nearly shaking me loose from my unsteady perch. I rallied and looped my other ankle firmly around the metal steps, not daring to trust my feet alone.

"I thought you were going to actually get left behind. Or get run over. Which would have been shitty for me. So much paperwork," Eric drawled, not seeming to be bothered in the slightest by any of this.

Shit.

My free hand grabbed the bar above me, but I didn't have anywhere else to put my other hand. I lessened my grip on his shoulder though before I replied. "Oh yeah, I'd rather be crushed under a truck than have to do paperwork," I wheezed.

The road below me rolled on faster and faster, and the slipstream from the increase in speed pushed me closer to his chest. "Clearly you've never done paperwork before," he retorted with a smirk. The truck lurched over another pothole. Eric's arm snaked around my waist, tethering me to him while keeping me from actually coming inside. I found myself thanking the thick goggles for obscuring the flush creeping across my face that wasn't due to the sun and wind.

"Next time you try jumping onto a moving truck, don't fuck up so much," Eric said wryly. I wanted to protest, but he was stepping back, pulling me fully into the truck. Once I had both feet on the steel plated flooring I broke free from his grasp, moving to the driver's side to hold onto one of the straps.

Besides the driver, myself, and Eric the truck was empty. My hopes of having someone to talk to faded instantly. Part of me surged at the thought of figuring out the enigma that was Eric, but that got squashed as well. He slammed the sliding door shut and moved back to the passenger seat next to the driver.

My heartbeat returned to normal, I stared down at my feet. What was _wrong_ with me? My emotions couldn't deal with the constant reversals in Eric's mood. He'd offer to train me in how to fight in one moment and then the next mock me for missing load up. It was easy to hate him, like Peter. But there was more to him than a petty jerk.

At least, I hoped there was more to him. It could just have been the "accidental" touches - that I was now convinced were anything but - talking to me, but I wanted to believe that Eric had more to him than "Ruthless Leader." After all, I had more to me than "Ex-Stiff."

**A/N: I absolutely loved the convoy vehicles in **_**Insurgent**_**. Whoops, can you tell? They were there for two whole minutes and I just immediately needed to see more of them in the world. So I decided to have them make a nice little cameo slash PLOT DEVICE in this chapter. You're welcome, readers.**

**I turned Robert kind of into nerdy farm boy and honestly I hope that's okay because I really don't remember how he was in **_**Divergent**_**?**

**Ch 9 will focus on sniper training, aka "Eric gets touchy feely while simultaneously teaching Tris how to become a more precise killer" aka exactly what their relationship should be forever and always. Right now it's confusing and that's intentional. Neither knows what to think of the other. Eric thinks she's either brilliant or going to fuck up terribly. Tris thinks he's an egotistical jackass or a tease. Where is this going? No one knowssss~! (That's a lie. I know. You know. We all know. It's tagged in the description. But the journey is so very important!)**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I realized I messed up big time with the location of the shooting range with respect to the fence. I said first it was OUTSIDE the fence and then they didn't go through the checkpoint until AFTER they'd dropped off the Dauntless-born so that was 100% my fault. I'll blame sleep deprivation. I'll fix that soon, just not right now. For now, assume that sniper training is OUTSIDE the fence as it was intended. **

**Also, this chapter was a longgg time coming. Sorry for the delay, but everything has been crazy on my end and I really wanted to include the sniping part instead of just the beginning I had written. Then there was an incident with a rather nasty anon which made me frustrated with writing. But! Here was are and please enjoy this nice long chapter!**

I didn't realize at first what happened. The truck had been barrelling along behind it's partner, taking the rough terrain in stride seemingly without issue. Then, a massive _boom _reverberated through the steel walls and I had to cling with both hands to the ceiling strap. Both Eric and the driver shouted curses, the crimson haired driver sounding especially frantic as he hauled the careening vehicle back into control.

"What the fuck? Did we just blow a tire on fucking _sand_?" Eric shouted, trying to stick his head out the window to see the damage. The driver grabbed the radio set above his dashboard and was relaying information rapid-fire to the other truck. Already we were slowing down, the other initiates disappearing in a cloud of dust ahead of us.

I shakily released one hand from the hanging strap - hereby referred to as the "oh SHIT strap" - and let out the breath I'd been holding. I didn't get much respite though, as moments later both Eric and the driver were jumping out of the truck. "Move it, initiate," the driver called out. His voice was nasally and high pitched, and I frowned at being ordered around by someone who didn't even know who I was.

But like a good Dauntless I followed orders, pushing off from the bench and sliding out the passenger door. The truck stood silent, listing heavily to the right from the blown out front tire. Eric was staring at the tattered remains of the steel-bonded rubber tire, running a hand through his short hair in agitation. "It's going to take goddamn forever to fix this," he growled to himself.

The driver nodded in agreement, adding unhelpfully, "If it had been one of the back wheels, we could have limped it back. Now we gotta change it."

Eric sent him a withering glare. "Thanks, Sergeant," he replied dryly. "I had no idea that we were fucking screwed." He returned to staring at the tire, muttering quietly to himself. I could only imagine what he was thinking, but it most likely involved something profane happening to the useless driver.

Shifting my feet uncomfortably, I looked at the perfectly functional rear tires that were mocking us. I could feel the switch inside my brain click when I realized a simple - if exhausting - solution.

"Swap the front and back tires," I said quietly.

"Take off that tire and put it up front," Eric said at the same time.

His head snapped to look at me, eyes narrowing slightly. I met his gaze evenly. Hell, after he was criticizing me earlier, I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of denying me this. "Good thinking, Tris," Eric murmured quietly. "Smart."

I allowed myself a small smile and a nod before I went back to staring at the broken down truck.

The driver paced back and forth between the front and back wheels, a frown creasing his face. "I mean, I guess that could work. I was just going to wait for Sandra back at HQ to send out a repair team and call back Justin to pick us up," he mused aloud. "Wouldn't have thought to try swapping these two."

Eric shouldered him out of the way and started to examine the blown out tire. "That's why I'm a Leader and you're driving trucks, Sergeant," he growled. Clearly he wasn't fond of the lower ranked officer. I wasn't going to ask why, since that wasn't particularly important right now. Nor did I really expect to get an answer if I did dare to ask.

The sergeant jumped back into the truck and I could hear him rummaging around the back looking for tools. Beyond offering my suggestion, I still hadn't done anything useful at this point. Looking for some direction, I looked back at Eric. "Orders?" I asked hesitantly. I didn't want to just stand here with my hands in my pockets, but I also had no idea where the repair equipment was or, frankly, how to operate it.

He looked me over, squinting his eyes through the heavy goggles still strapped to his head. Only after considering me carefully - a nerve wracking experience - did he respond. "Just observe the repairs for now. Might as well learn something," he said slowly.

I nodded quickly and started to walk to stand near the blown out front tire. As I crossed in front of him, Eric's hand snapped out and grabbed my shoulder. "Wait," he added as an afterthought. "Take this. Keep watch for any trouble." He unsnapped the clasps on his assault rifle's holster and swung the massive firearm off of his back. Eric passed it to me smoothly and I swallowed my nerves as best I could.

"Of course," I replied without stuttering or fumbling with the weight of the high-powered rifle. Maybe it was the sink-or-swim nature of the situation, but I just pushed aside my worries and rolled with the punches. Slipping the strap about my torso, I tucked the rifle against my shoulder and took up watch by the front of the truck. Four's trigger discipline teachings in mind, I checked the safety and my stance several times before I was satisfied with both.

The afternoon sun was broiling, especially with the layer of body armor that we were wearing. Only five minutes into the repair work and both of the men had tugged off their protective gear in favor of avoiding heatstroke. Eric had even taken off his now-trademark vest, working in just his black t-shirt. Despite the tools in the truck, it still took both of them considerable effort to jack up the truck and haul off the busted tire. From what I overheard from the radio transmissions, support was so far away it barely mattered that the sergeant had called for it at all.

The process of unbolting the front-most rear wheel went faster than the first had gone, but it was still tedious and very labor intensive. The fact that it still was intact with the heavy reinforced rubber tire around it only made the task that much more intense. "Alright, Tris get over here," Eric called out when they had moved the wheel halfway to the front of the truck.

I took one last hard look around us - continuing to spy nothing of interest at all - before I trotted back to where Eric and the still-unnamed sergeant driver were working. "Yeah?" I asked expectantly. What I was expecting, I wasn't fully certain. But it wasn't to be told to shore up Eric's side of the wheel while he stepped back and tugged off his shirt.

I won't lie. I _might _have lost my grip on the tire as I watched the Dauntless leader strip off his top.

The tightest clinging shirt invented couldn't have done him justice.

Wrenching my eyes away, I dug my heels into the ground to get my grip back. The sergeant panted heavily as he struggled to keep the heavy wheel from falling flat to the ground or against the truck. "Alright, back on guard duty," Eric grunted to me, one arm stretching over my shoulder to take back over. He was acting like this was a normal occurrence, utterly opposite to my wide eyed stare and reeling surprise.

I ducked under his arm, picking up my discarded weapon. While I got myself set up again, I couldn't help my glances back at Eric. His tattoos stood out even more, stark black against his skin. The bars on his neck stopped just at his collarbone, bringing my eyes to cascade over his impeccably muscular chest and stomach. God, could he be any more of a perfect specimen of rugged Dauntless power?

If Christina could see me now… I shook my head twice and trotted back to my guard position by the truck's nose. She probably would be too busy enjoying the view to make any comments, if I was being honest. Not that I was complaining, either. My careful watch of the empty grassland around us was punctuated by plenty of glances to the two young men working.

Hauling the intact tire into position took another five minutes of swearing. Securing it to the axle took another ten. Eric ordered the sergeant to cancel his radio call at that point, informing HQ that they no longer needed the repair detail.

I put the safety back on and slung the assault rifle onto my shoulder before leaving my post at the nose of the truck. "So we're all set?" I asked cautiously. "We're going to meet up with the other trainees at the range?"

Eric, who was wiping grease off his hands with a stained rag, nodded shortly. "Yep. That's the plan," he answered gruffly. He tossed the rag into the open toolbox and turned to look at me. His grey eyes were still intensely focused despite the exhausting task he'd just been doing. "You didn't spot any other trucks out here while you were watching, correct?"

I shook my head fervently. "No. Four's truck was the only other one I've seen and it disappeared pretty much after we broke down. I would have said something if I saw another dust cloud out there," I reported quickly. My upbringing was helping out here as I kept my replies short and sweet.

Eric frowned, looking over my shoulder in the direction of the shooting range. "I'm not sure why the other driver hasn't come by here with Lauren's group," he grumbled, "but I have a suspicion that number boy is behind it. Bastard."

Shifting my feet slightly, I didn't really know how to reply. Or if I should. This was so far out of my comfort zone, being completely different than anything that had happened so far in initiation. So I kept my mouth shut and wrapped my hand tighter around my rifle's strap.

Thankfully Eric wasn't looking for a response. He looked back at me and smirked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Once more my gaze lingered there, still not used to such cavaliere displays of, well, nakedness wasn't the right word, but something like that. "You paid attention to the repairs?" he asked, his voice suddenly light.

"Yeah, I was watching," I replied with a nod. There was something in the way that he asked that I could feel wasn't straightforward.

His smirk twitched a little wider. "Carefully?" Eric asked, stretching the word out. He stepped sideways to lean against the side of the truck, coming closer to where I was standing. Purely by coincidence, I'm sure_._

My breath caught in my throat for a moment, so I nodded tightly once more. I coughed to clear my throat and added, "As carefully as I could without getting distracted from keeping watch." Because boy had it been distracting even _before_ Eric took off his shirt. Some time during the repairs it dawned on me that Eric was even younger than twenty, probably only a year or two older than me. Which meant that he was just barely out of initiation and already a Leader.

"Earth to Stiff, come in," Eric taunted, snapping his fingers under my nose. I reeled backwards reflexively from the noise before I realized what happened.

"S-sorry," I sputtered. Pulling myself back in the moment, I cleared my throat again before asking, "What did I miss?"

God, I wanted to wipe that shit eating grin off his face. He tilted his head and said, "I asked if you would pass me my shirt. Unless you're still enjoying the view."

My face burned about as red as the sergeant's hair, and I turned quickly to grab Eric's discarded shirt from where it was draped on the side mirror. "Shut up and get dressed," I grumbled in reply. "Four's going to kill me if I don't show up for practice. Or worse, cut me right then and there." I tossed his shirt at him before brushing by him to get into the back of the truck. Telling him off might not have been a smart move-

"Hey, I'm still your leader," Eric barked at me, though he immediately added, "though you have a point. Sergeant! Why aren't we moving already?" The driver groaned softly before jogging back around to Eric's side of the truck. I think he'd been hiding from Eric and the sun, leaning against the driver's side door.

Now it was my turn to smirk. I hopped up into the truck lightly - it was infinitely more easy when it wasn't moving - and slid my assault rifle onto the bench. I helped the driver load up the toolbox, wincing when he rolled the sliding door shut just inches from my nose. Within three minutes they had their gear back on, including heavy goggles and Eric's vest, and the truck was rumbling to life.

I sat down heavily on the opposite bench to my, well actually it was Eric's rifle, and let out a long breath. "You know," Eric called over his shoulder from the passenger seat, "you didn't look half bad out there keeping watch, Tris. Keep it up and you'll pass initiation without much trouble. As long as you keep following orders, that is."

Not trusting myself to speak, I just nodded and threw up a thumbs up in the direction of the front of the truck. I was glad to be out of the sun, even just for the rest of the trek. "And keep using your head. Don't end up like Richards here, driving trucks for, what's it been, six months now?" Eric added, sneering at the driver.

"Eight, _sir_," Richards replied with barely restrained irritation. His hands curled tightly around the steering wheel. Eric just laughed and said a quick and obviously insincere "sorry."

Jumping out of the truck and back into the sun was the last thing that I wanted to do, but I forced myself to leave the cool, shaded vehicle. Lauren's group had already taken the other truck - it wasn't there when we pulled up to the target practice zone - and Eric ordered Richards to "do something useful and man the comms" until he needed him again. The cracking of rifles sounded intermittently, like a slow firework display.

My fellow transfers were paired off, spread out across the hard packed earth that marked the shooting range. Four had been pacing between the pairs before he spotted Eric and I making our way from the truck. "We had a bit of a delay," Eric called out cheerfully, as though it hadn't been a royal pain to get here.

"I can see that," Four retorted back. "Here I was thinking that the Stiff had just hopped a truck from Amity back into the city." My footing faltered. His words felt like a sucker punch to my gut, especially after my little outburst to Robert. That was exactly the image I _didn't_ want people to have of me.

Setting my jaw tightly, I stomped faster to where Four was standing, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. "I only missed the truck because I was-" I started to growl, intending to explain fully why I'd been late.

"I don't care and it doesn't matter," he interrupted immediately. "The rule for any training is to be here on time or don't show up at all."

Something inside me snapped. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the irritation of people thinking I couldn't be what I wanted to be. Maybe it was the rage-filled Dauntless girl inside me cheering me on. I don't know what it was, but it exploded inside me.

"Just you wait one fucking second," I roared, stabbing one finger roughly against his crossed arms. "I might have almost missed the trucks, but I didn't give up. I caught up to the trucks and jumped on. If a tire hadn't blown and the other truck - which you and everyone else was inside - hadn't just kept driving, I would have been here right on god damn time.

"You're telling me that if it had been reversed and everyone else-" I waved at the eight transfers turning to look at the commotion "- had been on a truck which got stopped for _whatever reason_, and you and I had been on the truck that made it here 'on time,' they'd be in trouble? That's bullshit and you know it, Four." He stared at me, a wave of discomfort and alarm crossing his face.

That quickly passed though, his face twisting into a nasty snarl. "It doesn't matter if you think it's 'bullshit' or not, _initiate_. I'm your superior and I'm telling you _you're not training today_. So get over it before I deduct even more points from your rank," he snapped. Turning tightly on his heel, Four stormed righteously back over to the eight awestruck transfers. I could see Al's terrified eyes from here, even through his dark goggles.

My hands curled tightly into fists and I ground my teeth together to keep from yelling even more profanities at my "trainer." I was so angry I didn't even hear the crunch of scorched dirt behind me. Eric appeared next to me, a frown creasing his face and his dirty-blonde hair messy from his newly-tugged-on goggles. "Well, normally I'd be impressed with Four for actually showing some backbone," he mused, "except when he leaves me for dead outside the wall, I start to care less. In fact, I tend to get a little pissed off."

I looked over at him and tilted my head slightly. "Beg pardon?" I asked, not quite following what he was saying. Or, frankly, why I should give a damn about how this affected their rivalry.

Eric rolled his eyes and pressed his hand against the small of my back, propelling me forward. He walked us past Four, to the far end of the firing range. "What I'm _trying _to say is 'fuck that guy.' He's so into, quote,_ respecting superiors _and yet he told Lauren's group to go to checkpoint 20 instead of 19 just so they won't drive by us to give support," Eric said in an annoyed voice. Alright, it was more than annoyed. He was just about as pissed as I was.

"So, if he says that you can't train because he - your superior - said you couldn't, then I'm going to just have to go over his head by a couple ranks and say that you can," he finished in a sickeningly cheerful tone. As we passed by the case of firearms and ammunition, he stopped to pick out a few pieces of gear.

Feeling a little dumbstruck, I blindly accepted the pieces he passed to me. I was still trying to figure out if I should be glad that he was going to train me, or if I should just wait for Four to cool down and give me the official go-ahead. "Congrats, Tris, it's your lucky day," Eric said jauntily, shouldering a camo-printed rifle with a wicked grin.

I clutched the case of ammunition and heavy metal tube to my chest, feeling slightly dazed. "O-okay then," I replied with uncertainty. "If you say so." Continuing down the line, Eric walked us down to the farthest target, several stations away from the last pair of initiates.

His hand on the small of my back vanished as he removed the rifle from his shoulder. Eric extended a hand, gesturing to the tube I was holding. "Switch," he grunted. I obeyed immediately, handing over the contraption in exchange for the sniper. "Keep the ammo. Load the mag and get ready to shoot."

I turned my attention to the firearm in my hand, my mind going at a thousand miles an hour. It seemed similar enough to the other weapons that we'd worked with, so getting the magazine out and loaded wasn't going to be too difficult. I knelt on the hard-packed ground and stood the rifle on it's end so I wouldn't drop the stupid thing.

Two minutes of fiddling with the mechanics and struggling with the heavy latch on the ammo box later and I had my magazine loaded with cartridges. The butt of the rifle also had a few loops clearly for additional rounds, so I filled those as well. By the time I had finished, Eric had assembled his spotting scope. _Ah. So that's what I'd been carrying_.

He made a slight adjustment with where the scope was pointing before bringing his attention back to me. "So. First thing's first," he started. "Get on your stomach. Prop the rifle right up here." His knuckles rapped silently on the sandbags piled in front of me.

I followed his directions, moving the rifle carefully so that I didn't do anything by accident. The ground was hot on my arms and where the body armor rode up on my stomach, making me grimace. I thought about the canteens of water that I'd spotted in one of the supply piles, wistfully regretting not grabbing one.

Eric settled onto the ground as well, one of his boots only inches from my face with how he was sitting. I pulled the rifle back so the butt was against my shoulder. "Now what?" I asked. My frustration and anger from earlier was manifesting in a tense nervousness and I drummed my fingers on the barrel.

"Keep it close to you so you can hold everything steady," he commanded. His finger pointed to the sight mounted on top. "Here's where things are different from using your handgun.

"This sight is your best friend, _if_ you know how to use it." I nodded tightly. That made sense. Precision and accuracy were what made riflemen so dangerous. That much I had gathered from Four's lectures. I leaned into the frame of the rifle, lining up my eye to the scope. Eric quickly went over the basics on changing magnification and noting the tiny distance guides etched inside the reticle.

"Now I want to see how well you can shoot," he said. My nerves, which had calmed down during his quick overview, spiked again.

"Got it," I mumbled into the frame. Taking a deep breath, I lined up the center of the target in my sight and quickly squeezed the trigger. The crack of the gunshot in my ear seemed deafening and the slam of the recoil surprised me. I managed to hold the barrel steady, but my shoulder ached from the impact.

"Again," was Eric's only response from behind his spotting scope.

I gritted my teeth and realigned myself with the target. Four more shots. Four more terse replies. Glaring down the sight, I tried to count the number of holes in the thick target material. My first and third shots had gone wild, missing completely. There were two holes piercing the outermost rings and another about midway to the center.

My sight trained on the bullseye, I adjusted my aim slightly higher. The other shots had all been too low, so I hoped the compensation would help. I exhaled this time as I shot, remembering back to my impromptu shooting lessons earlier this week.

The rifle cracked in my arms, but still held steady enough where the shot stayed true. Progress.

Peering once more down the sight at the target, I was pleased to see I'd struck just outside the two center rings. "Not bad for your sixth shot," Eric remarked in a pleased voice. I felt a tiny surge of pride and more than a little bit of relief. Eric turned his attention from the spotting scope back to me.

"A few comments," he started off with a chuckle. "Try not to hold the rifle in a death grip. You want to control it, but not so much that the recoil shakes you half to death.

"Actually, you just need to relax overall. Shooting's a challenge, not a death sentence." His steel grey eyes continued to study me carefully. It made my stomach flip.

I nodded tightly. "Got it." Settling back into my stance, I tried to force my brain to relax. When I squeezed the trigger, I grunted as the butt of the rifle slammed into my sore shoulder.

"_Relax," _Eric's voice murmured in my ear. "You're overthinking." He moved from sitting next to my head to lie down on the dirt next to me. Eric reached around my shoulders to adjust how my arms were holding the stock and barrel. "You have to get right up and personal with the rifle. You can't be afraid of it." His hand rested against the small of my back, just slightly heavy through the body armor.

"Take your time, Tris."

Despite him being so close, I felt less nervous than before. My breathing steady and even, I took careful aim. I didn't want to rush anything. I noted the subtle motions of the gun, the gentle bobbing as I breathed in and out. Once I adjusted to the slow tempo and the tiny jerks that could only be smoothed from practice, I took my shot. My arms no longer locked in place, I felt the recoil push back as I held the barrel still.

"Gorgeous," he purred. My resulting flush was from pride and not the huskiness of his voice. I settled back into position to shoot again. Before I could though, an earshattering tone sounded across the range. A wave of panic swept over me and I twisted quickly to look around.

"What was that?" I asked nervously. It had been louder than the cracks of gunfire nearby, which was rather concerning.

Eric snorted a laugh. "Nothing to freak out about. That's the signal to hold your fire."

"Oh." That made sense. Much safer and easier than trying to shout across a range of people deep in concentration.

Four was calling out to the transfers to change targets. The pairs must have been switching off. For the first time in the past half hour he looked over at where we were. Making eye contact, he waved his hand at me and then my target. Go swap it out.

"I'll hold that if you don't mind," Eic said casually, tugging the rifle smoothly from my hands.

"And if I do?" I grunted half-jokingly as I pushed myself up and over the sandbags. He only chuckled in reply. I started jogging towards my target as Eric reloaded the rifle and peered down the scope. It made me a little nervous to have my back to him when I reached the target, but I rationalized that a leader probably had to have very good trigger discipline.

Probably.

I could feel his gaze on me the whole time, made worse by the fact that the closest pair was 20 yards away. I shoved the feeling out of my mind while I detached the used target. It was disconcerting looking at the punched out holes. The target was far wider than it had appeared, and shots that had seemed centimeters away were practically whole handspans apart. If we were working on targets this big and missing, how were we supposed to get precision and accuracy to shoot a person?

I didn't want to think about that too hard as I swapped on a fresh target. While I was on my way back to my spot, I noticed who had been matched with whom. Christina - God bless her - had been stuck with Peter while Will and Al had banded together. Molly and Drew were arguing about who would shoot next, and Edward and Maya made up the final pair. I suppose I was grateful that Eric had been feeling generous enough to teach me. Round-robin shooting lessons would have been shitty if I had been stuck in a threesome.

Finally I was back behind my sandbags, I looked expectantly at Eric. "I want you to try a new position this time, Tris," he started off. "No one likes a girl who only knows one."

His smirk told of a joke that was flying over my head. I gave a half-hearted "ha, yeah," in response.

"Oh my god, you stiffs need more humor in your lives," he groaned before getting back to business. "Sit down and cross your legs," he instructed. Following his orders, I promptly sat and folded my legs neatly. I liked it more than lying down with my face in the dirt already. He settled in behind me, close but still without touching me. He tapped my left knee.

"Pop that up and take this back," Eric added, passing back the sniper. " Keep this hand on the trigger-" he guided my right arm back to its familiar position "-and tuck this one under the frame, hugging your knee." Once again his hand ghosted across my arm, gently prodding me into the right pose.

"Perfect," he murmured in my ear. "Far more natural for you, mmm?" My throat caught and I had to nod in reply. Good lord, maybe there was a reason we didn't touch in Abnegation. My heart pounded in my chest as I peered down the scope at the fresh target. Breathe, I commanded myself. This is nothing you can't handle. Exhaling smoothly, I squeezed the trigger.

The motion rocked me as usual, but I stayed steady and didn't shy away from the sight. Breathe in, breathe out, fire again. My first three shots formed a tight circle in the middle rings - better than before but not great. I adjusted my aim, tightened the arm supporting the frame, and let loose another short burst. Eric inhaled sharply from behind me on my last shot.

My nerves returned momentarily. Did I royally screw up? Shakily, I peered through the scope and felt the air flood out of my lungs like a kick to the chest. One shot lingered on the edge of the ring and two punched squarely through the bullseye.

"That was-" he started to say before Four's voice boomed across the range.

"You can't fucking be afraid of the gun!" he bellowed. "This isn't day one anymore." Everyone was looking now, eyes trained on the pair that had caught Four's wrath. Will looked pale behind his goggles and Al was holding the sniper so gingerly it was almost floating on his fingertips.

"Someone's going to wish they hadn't transferred," Eric growled in my ear. I sat mutely in horror as he swung back up and prowler towards the uncooperative duo. "Dauntless aren't afraid of anything," he drawled dramatically, " and that's something you'll have to learn sooner rather than later. So let's go for sooner, mm?"

Four glared at him indignantly but didn't speak up. No one was moving an inch.

"You're afraid of the gun?" Eric asked coldly. It was amazing how quickly his entire mood and tone shifted. He was like a predator locked into his prey. I had to remind myself to breathe.

Al jutted his chin out defiantly. Hell, it was the first bold thing I'd seen him do all initiation. "Well yeah," he answered matter of factly. "It's kind of a killing machine we just got handed today."

Oh no. Al, Al, Al why did you have to reply like a smartass? If you'd just said yes, you might have gotten off easy. "Shut up, idiot," I whispered to myself, not daring to speak up.

Eric blinked at Al, feigning surprise. "Oh, so that's supposed to make it okay? It's okay to fuck up royally because you're scared of doing your job?"

Al ground his teeth together, but kept his mouth shut miraculously. I noticed Will shaking his head very slowly, his eyes locked on his partner. "Go run laps," Four ordered the pair. "Neither one stops until you've done at least twenty."

Eric put his hand up, stopping Al from passing by him. "No. That won't teach either of them anything. Or get crybaby here over his fears." I found myself walking over to the group, along with Christina and a very amused Peter. "Go stand by the target. Maybe you'll get over your fears watching your partner shoot from a new perspective."

My heart skipped a beat. Even Peter looked a little less gleeful. Four however looked resigned, not even attempting to contest Eric's punishment. My stomach turned in knots as Al walked dejectedly towards the target. How good was Will's aim?

"Chin up, sport. If you flinch, you might just put yourself out of your misery," Eric called out once Al reached the target. Will was holding the rifle unsteadily, swallowing several times in succession. It was killing me inside.

"Anyone can stand next to a target," I finally blurted out. "That doesn't make you brave."

Eric turned to train his glare on me now. "So he should get to weasel out of this because anyone can do it? I think that means he has to, since it's so easy."

"Unless you want to," Four chimed in, his expression unreadable. "Or would you rather take Will's place shooting at your friend? You can't be a martyr for both, though." The sarcasm in his words bit at me, making me angry instead of scared. He wasn't doing shit to help either one of them when he clearly should have been.

Christina bristled beside me. "Be careful, Tris," she whispered.

"Don't fuck up, Stiff," Peter mocked. I could feel my heart pounding. Who did I trust more? Al not to flinch or Will not to shoot me if I did?


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This is the part of the story where the RIVAL bit of the rivalmance comes more into play. Tris and Eric might have some interesting chemistry when it comes to her training, but their headbutting is something that I can't not showcase. So this chapter plays on that a bit and I hope that everyone enjoys it suitably!**

**I'm not sure how I feel about the last part of this chapter. I'd appreciate any feedback that people have on that final bit of dialogue! When my characters aren't moving around or trying to punch each other I start getting worried that everything is too damn wordy. Feedback on anything, actually, is always appreciated *heart eyes***

**Also: A quick note about the next update. As many of you know, I'm getting married in less than 2 weeks (beginning of August) and then going away. The next chapter won't be up most likely until the beginning / middle of August just due to the sheer number of things that I'll be doing the next few days. If you're looking for the most recent updates on when a new chapter will come out, again please check my Twitter (firelord65) and my Tumblr (feckyeslife). I have a tag on the tumblr blog where anything Prove It related is posted. **

"What's it going to be? Skill or bravery, Stiff?" Four questioned intently. Everyone's eyes were on me and the tension was palpable in the air.

I clenched my hands into fists and carefully weighed my options. Al was a terrified mess, but I wasn't certain that Will was doing much better under the stress. My own skills at shooting weren't tested beyond the few shots that Eric had walked me through this past hour. Except, that was only partially true. While he had given me tips and helped me to be more comfortable with the practice, all of my sighting and shots were one hundred percent my own. All I had to do was hit the massive target instead of Al, right?

_I'm so sorry, Al_. "I choose skill," I replied finally, mustering up as much courage as I could find to meet Four's eyes. "I pick shooting." Eric ground his teeth, grimacing before nodding twice.

"Okay then," he said shortly. Will barely even waited for him to finish talking before he passed his rifle to me with shaking hands. He mouthed "thank you" to me, skittering away from the dug out portion of ground.

I settled down into the sitting position that I'd just left only a minute and half ago, shifting slightly until I was comfortable. While I checked my magazine - entirely full - Eric laid out his rules. "You have to hit the target three times. I'll allow four shots, just in case you miss," he said with a sneer. That stung, but I didn't dare say anything more than I already had.

"Al!" he called out across the sandy expanse. "If you flinch, you have to move closer to the target. So try _really hard_ and maybe you'll stay where you are." Through the sight I watched Al shakily nod his head. He was a good foot away from the target. If I hit him, then I probably didn't belong on this range at all.

Taking deep breaths, I focused entirely on the red and white rings that made up the target. When I focused on the bullseye I couldn't even see Al in my sight. _Relax_, Eric's voice from earlier purred in my mind. It made me grit my teeth and I pulled the trigger sharply.

The bullet punched through the top edge of the target, just barely within the first red ring. I felt a twinge of satisfaction, though it wasn't my best shot. I had held up my end of the bargain. "Move closer, twitchy," Eric barked loudly. Of course Al hadn't been able to hold up his.

I peered out from behind my scope. Shuffling carefully, Al inched towards the target. "Keep going," Eric continued to call out. He didn't tell him to stop until his shoulder was brushing against the very edge of the rings. At that point his held up a clenched fist, looking pointedly at me. "Again," he said harshly.

Once more I lined up my shot with the center of the bullseye. My breathing was unsteady and I couldn't seem to calm it down, the crosshairs in my sight bobbing irregularly. Al's shoulders were shaking, the only things I could see in my limited view. _Keep it together_, I wanted to scream at him. Having something to focus on besides my own unsteadiness actually helped, easing the tension that was knotted up my back.

_Crack!_ The rifle sounded once more in my ear, the shot slamming thickly through the ring closest to the bullseye. Someone whistled low from behind me. Edward, I think. But Al had flinched again and Eric was already calling for him to move again.

It was like a weight had sunk into my stomach. Al's eyes were wide behind his goggles as he slunk closer and closer to the center of the target. "Stop!" Four called out. "That's close enough."

Al was maybe six inches from the center of the target, his chest level with the bullseye. I prayed that the cartridges we were shooting couldn't punch through our body armor. With Al being so close, my confidence in my own abilities was faltering. He was standing in front of the hole from my last shot.

"Should I go?" I asked hesitantly. Eric hadn't said anything after Four had interrupted his instructions. I hoped vaguely that the call to stop had been to stop this whole exercise entirely.

Fate would not be quite so kind. "Fire when ready, Tris," Eric ordered.

"You have to hit the target, remember," Four added unhelpfully. The reminder was far from welcome.

"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled under my breath. Shaking my hand to relieve a cramp that had set in, I studied Al's movements carefully. He was shaking like a leaf. Every few seconds he would flinch, waiting for the crack of gunfire that might end his-

I would not ki-

Shit. The world spun around me. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against the stock of the rifle, trying to collect myself. _Relax, relax, relax_, my inner voice chanted. _You can't make any shot if you're like this_. Counting to five, I finally wrenched myself back into a ready position.

_Don't think. Just line up the shot_. I carefully studied the smooth movements of the scope as I breathed in and out. With the rhythm seemingly locked into my mind, I exhaled and let off my third and - hopefully - final shot.

A shrieking scream echoed across the range. Al doubled over, rolling to the ground in a crumpling heap.

_No no no no nononononono._

Four was sprinting down the range, shouting for someone to call for medical help. But there was no way anyone would be close enough. Not when it was forty minutes to get a repair team out to this section beyond the wall. Dark spots swam against my vision and I didn't dare try to stand.

_What had I done?_

I felt frozen in place, my fingers still resting carefully on the trigger guard as I had been taught to do - ironically - for safety. I wanted to close my eyes, do anything except stare in horror as Four ran seemingly painfully slowly towards Al. Chaos was breaking out all around me. The only ones actually remaining calm were Eric and Sergeant Roberts. The latter was speaking rapidly into a comset in practiced, calm phrases.

"I repeat, we have a man down at the long range firing range. Gunshot wound, unknown condition. Requesting medical unit from closest depot." Bile rose up within my throat and I had to will myself not to throw up.

It was all my fault. Al might die because-

"It's just a graze!" Four shouted, his voice cracking. "He's going to be fine!"

Relief flooded throughout my body, my hands and feet literally tingling as I realized I hadn't killed someone today. I must have blacked out the next few minutes after the fact. Someone got the medical kit from the truck and patched up Al's elbow. He wouldn't be fighting for a few days until the wound healed, but he'd be fine. They also shot him up with painkillers to get him to stop groaning.

I found myself sitting on the sandbags, watching everything getting packed up around me. When it was time to load up, Christina gently nudged me to break me from my fog finally.

"Lauren's group is on their way back from the fence, so we're loading up too," she said softly. Pity was all over her face, concern radiating like a beacon. I could tell she was trying her best to stay as low key as possible to keep me from getting upset. It was a welcomed gesture.

"Yeah, okay," I croaked. Standing up felt like a chore, but I forced myself to keep moving. Jumping into the truck, I cringed immediately.

Al was sitting on the bench across from the open door, propped up by Will and Edward's shoulders. "Hey Tris," he slurred, his speech numbed by the painkillers.

I couldn't find my voice to reply and waved jerkily instead before stumbling to the back of the truck. Christina piled next to me and wordlessly passed me a canteen. I took a long gulp before splashing some on my face.

My goggles had vanished somewhere between the range and the truck. I didn't even remember taking them off. "You sure you're okay, Tris?" Christina asked quietly. She was still worried; you could see it in her eyes.

"I never said I was," I retorted before shutting the world away behind closed eyes.

During the entire trip I barely noticed what went on around me. I didn't even notice whether we stopped or not when passing through the fence checkpoint. When we rolled back into the garage Four let Al go, sending Edward with him to help him to the infirmary. The rest of us were on unload duty, checking that all the gear was returned and marked for maintenance.

Every piece would be checked by hand before being put back in the rotation for use in the field. Another glorious job prospect to look forward to if you didn't do so hot during initiation.

I got stuck helping Peter haul the crates to the last storage area, hefting the grey boxes from the doorway of the garage to the storage zone down the hall. While we were moving the last box, Peter decided it was time for him to open his insufferable mouth.

"How does it feel to go from being all high and mighty to crashing and burning in one single afternoon?" he said in a mock curious voice. "That's gotta be rough."

I fought my rising temper and refused to respond. My hands gripped the edge of the crate tighter as I imagined slamming the box down on his feet.

"I mean, Four's gotta be pretty tired of your martyr complex. I know I am."

"Shut _up_, Peter," I growled, breathing shortly out my nose. It only seemed to spur him on.

His face became gleeful. "It's not even like you're doing it because you're a good Abnegation girl. You only stepped in because it was your friends involved. You wouldn't have helped if Edward had been the one in trouble or me," he sneered.

We arrived to the storage room and I literally dropped my end of the box. I hoped darkly that it had wrenched his shoulder when it fell. "Your point is what, exactly?" I retorted. I refused to give him the satisfaction of getting flustered.

He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to me. It was the same move he was always trying to pull, so the intimidating effect was lost on me. "I'm just saying you aren't fooling anyone, Stiff."

Feigning an innocent, wide-eyed stare, I replied in the sweetest tone I could muster after everything that happened today. "I thought you said I wasn't a very good Abnegation girl?"

"That's because you're going to be factionless instead," he growled before stomping out of the storage room. I threw up a rude gesture to his retreating back before slowly walking to the garage where I knew my friends were waiting. _What an ass_.

I almost didn't go to dinner that night, but Christina prodded me into going. She claimed that I was going to faint tomorrow during training if I didn't eat anything, which frankly might have happened since I didn't end up getting time to eat when everyone else had at the shooting range.

When we were in the dining hall, Uriah and his friends joined us for the first time to eat with us. Unfortunately all they wanted to talk about the whole time was the incident at the range. Every time I tried to change the subject, one of them would bring the topic back around. My appetite vanished and I pushed around my meatloaf on my plate until Christina was ready to go.

We politely declined their invitation to join them on the roof of the complex and I hoped to escape to the dorms to hide. But that wasn't going to happen either as Christina tried her hardest to convince me to go shopping with her. "It's something you've never done before! Just me and you. No boys, no guns, just fun!" she insisted.

I couldn't find it in my heart to say no, so off we went to the shopping ring of the edge of the pit walls. We steered clear of the surplus supplies store - not that they'd sell anything to initiates anyway - and went into the clothing shop.

Despite spending my entire young life going to school with dependents from other factions, it had never occurred to me that there would be styles of dresses that could actually have some flair to them. I'd mentally sworn off dresses due to my abnegation heritage - I _loathed_ the plain, grey tents that my faction wore - but being in the store with Christina changed my mind.

She was convinced to find at least a couple new things for me to take home, so I happily let her pick out different things for me to try. I balked at anything see through that she tried to make me try on, but we eventually found some stuff that was both stylish and comfortable for me. The tops and denim shorts that I ended up getting were super cute, I had to admit. And Christina even found me a dress in a deep red color that would only raise my parent's blood pressure a little if they ever saw me in it.

Christina ended up with far more clothes than me, needing double the number of canvas bags to hold her purchases once we left the shop. "I don't even have to worry about Mother calling me a slut!" she said matter-of-factly.

Chuckling, I chimed in. "Me neither."

Despite spending far more points than I would have felt comfortable with at one time, she was far from done shopping. The store across the way caught Christina's eye and she made a beeline for it, with me trailing along in her wake. They had signs up promoting a discount of sorts, which must have been what caught her eye.

"Look at all this amazing stuff," Christina whispered in awe. "Why did you let me spend so much at the other place?"

I followed her inside, feeling a bit overwhelmed as well. For piercings alone they had a whole row of lighted glass cases with all different kinds of studs and designs displayed. The stretching rings made me gag, but I could almost imagine myself wearing the smaller, simpler stud earrings._ Maybe once initiation was over and I wasn't worried about getting my ear ripped open in a fight_.

With that in mind, I steered towards the other accessories in the store. There were a few bandanas that caught my eye, and I ended up selecting two to get right away. Christina got her ears pierced while I was looking around - clearly not as worried as I was about getting hurt in a fight - and requested that I pick out the studs she'd wear to until her ears healed up.

I was tempted to pick something totally ridiculous for her, like a pair of religious symbols or something holiday related, but I settled on a pair that mimicked her trailing flower tattoo instead.

"Damn girl, you've got a better eye than I would have thought," she said earnestly. "I love these so much!" She marvelled at her new studs in the mirror on the counter, grinning ear to ear.

I had to admit - she was right about the experience being a great de-stresser. When I started to agonize over the purchase of a leather cuff bracelet, she threatened to buy it for me herself to teach me how to chill.

"I don't want to spend every point I've got," I protested even as I was paying for the thing at the checkstand.

"I know that, silly," Christina chuckled in reply. "But it's always nice to treat yourself to something nice when you need it. They are _your _points to spend after all."

I tied my red bandana into a headband as she paid, nodding in agreement. I also snapped on the cuff bracelet, already glad that I'd bought it. There were Dauntless flames stamped along the edges, reminding me that I was in fact Dauntless regardless of what Peter or my aptitudes had to say.

Our next stop was a boutique decked with makeup products, just near the tattoo parlor. I wasn't quite sure how I felt about the whole makeup thing. I knew my face wasn't pretty in the traditional sense, so I didn't really know what makeup was going to do for me.

"Christina, I don't even know where to start in here," I admitted after wandering the racks for a good ten minutes.

"I know! I'm loving the selection. It's just crazy how much there is," she replied distractedly. She held up a tiny jar with some colored powder inside, looking for approval. "Like this purple shadow? Totally gorgeous."

"Uhh," I stammered. "If you say so."

Christina was aghast, her eyes wide. "Wait. You've never used makeup before, have you?" She sounded like I'd just told her we kicked puppies for fun in Abnegation. "Not even for holidays or special events?" she squeaked indignantly.

When I shook my head, Christina made a tiny squeak. "Well, then we need to change that pronto! No wonder you guys never look in mirrors in grey-ville." She took my hand and dragged me on a whirlwind tour of the "basics of makeup," which felt even longer than the lessons our Upper Level teachers used to give on science topics.

In the end she tried a few different products on me before she and the shopkeeper - who she recruited to help with the process - agreed that I looked good.

"I didn't go for 'shazam gorgeous'" - whatever that meant - "but I stuck with making you stand out," she explained cheerfully before handing me the mirror. I flipped it over and stared at her handiwork. I certainly was noticeable without delving into a ridiculous display of color like many Dauntless chose to do.

She'd lined my eyes and brushed on some dark mascara to make them pop. That with plain gloss for my lips and some liberally applied grey eyeshadow made me look determined and a little hot.

"Thanks," I said earnestly. "This, I mean I, look great. I'm going to need to beg you to do this every day." I said with a laugh. That only made her more excited and I had to immediately backpedal for fear of being turned into her test subject for everything fashion related.

Finally we left our last store of the night. Christina's hands were full from all the different things that she bought, and even my hand was starting to cramp from holding my bag of clothes and accessories. As we made our way around the pit back to the dorm, a familiar pair of voices called out.

"Tris! Christina!" Will's voice echoed against the stone walls from ahead of us.

"Wait up, guys!" Al called out as well, his s's still slurred. Immediately my stomach dropped and I felt my chest tighten up.

I forced myself to smile at the pair of boys as they jogged through the members of Dauntless who were milling around. Al's arm was bandaged with fresh, clean linen pinned neatly in place. Will kept a steady eye on his friend to make sure he didn't topple on the railing-less pathway.

"What're you guys doing?" Al asked curiously, stopping just inches from where I was standing. His eyes were bright from the medication and he was acting much more outgoing than any other time I'd ever seen him.

Will lingered behind him, leaning against the wall as we talked. Christina held up her bags in explanation. "Shopping to relieve the stress," she said cheerfully. "How was late dinner?"

"The meatloaf tasted kind of bad, but maybe that's because my sweet thing wasn't there with me," Al said with a not-so-subtle look in my direction. _Oh hell no_.

Both Will and Christina got the same slightly uncomfortable look on their face, which I failed to keep from spreading to me. "Er, yeah, okay then," I said after an awkward silence.

The others all tried talking at the same time next, attempting to dissuade Al from whatever he was trying to accomplish with his too-friendly statements. "What do you think of our new stuff?" Christina asked even as Will said, "I see you pierced your ears."

Al kept looking right at me, studying me carefully. "You look different, Tris," he said stiffly as the wheels in his mind turned. "Like you're super intense looking. It's hot-t-t." The ends of his sentences were starting to get dragged out, almost like he was tipsy.

Will looked even more uncomfortable and shrugged. "They didn't know he'd already gotten painkillers in the field and gave him more in the infirmary," he explained quietly. "He's been like this all night."

"I think he needs to sleep it off," Christina said under her breath. "Go back to being afraid to say more than three things to Tris." I couldn't have agreed more.

When Al tried to take another step towards me, I couldn't take it any more. "I've gotta go," I insisted, spinning tightly on my heel and walking quickly in that direction. I didn't care that it was where we'd just come from, just that I get away from Al and his overly friendliness and nearly life-threatening injury that seemed to be spotlit in its white bandage compared to the darkness of Dauntless.

I found myself at the top of the Pit, near the bridge over the Chasm. It was loud and distracting, perfect for what I needed. Tucking my canvas bag securely next to me, I sat in a small alcove near the Chasm bridge and shut my eyes against the blue corridor lights. I wasn't trying to sleep, just recover my thoughts before going back to the dorm with all my fellow transfers.

Everything had been going great until today. And then I'd missed the truck and nearly missed practice. And _then_ I'd missed the target and nearly severely injured someone I called a friend. Too many misses and too many mistakes. My fingers played with the ridges along the leather of my new cuff, spinning the leather bracelet around and around as I played the scene from today over and over in my mind.

Al, standing terrified at the target, unable to stop flinching every time that I shot. My finger over the trigger, trying my very best to keep him safe. If I hadn't aimed at the center - if I'd aimed for the very edge of the target instead - would I have stopped myself from feeling this agonizing guilt?

"You know it's not the smartest to sit in dark corners by yourself," someone said in a low voice that seemed to tower above me. I didn't have to open my eyes to know who it was.

"I told you to fuck off, Peter," I said tiredly. "I don't want to deal with you especially not after today."

He just laughed darkly and I could hear his feet scuffling closer, just barely audible over the crash of the chasm nearby. "You know you don't scare me. You couldn't hurt me even if you tried," he sneered.

I kept my eyes shut, a silent defiance. Maybe if I kept ignoring him, he'd disappear like a bad dream. "I have half a mind to prove that to you right now, but you're not worth-"

"Do yourself a favor and shut up, Hayes," a new voice joined in over the roaring of water. "And get lost before I stop being amused by your antics."

Peter didn't say anything to the newcomer. I would have bet another five points that he was livid though, storming away with his hands balled into fists.

The newcomer approached my alcove quietly, the sound of his boots grinding the sand underfoot barely audible. "Eric," I greeted simply. My eyes stayed shut still. I didn't want to deal with Peter. I didn't want to deal with Al. And I sure as hell didn't want to deal with Eric and his constantly changing moods.

"Tris," he replied in the same tone. He waited a beat before continuing. "I figured I'd give Hayes a nudge in the right direction before you two ended up brawling canyonside," he said simply.

I nodded, not wanting to say thanks but not wanting to ignore the gesture. If it was a gesture. I finally opened my eyes and looked up at my unwelcomed visitor.

"So are you going to just stand there until I leave or are you going to concoct some new punishment for me for messing up earlier?" I asked sarcastically. I couldn't have cared less about the fact that I was giving a leader shit. Everything was fucked up anyways; it wasn't like I could make it any worse.

Eric snorted a laugh. "Punish you?" That's pretty much the last thing on my mind," he said matter-of-factly.

_Say what?_ I blinked owlishly at him for a moment before he spoke again. "And I was going to sit, if that's alright, initiate," he said. He was still acting fairly good-naturedly and I couldn't tell if it was genuine.

"Knock yourself out," I replied trying to match his neutral tone.

He slid down the wall with a sigh, sitting kitty-corner to me, his boots just brushing against my folded knees. We sat there in silence, the canyon roaring away in the distance. Finally, he turned his head to look at me. "You know I didn't actually want your boy toy to get hurt," Eric said simply.

That made my blood boil and I glared at him intensely. "He's _not_ my 'boy toy' or anything of the sort. And it sure as _hell_ didn't seem like that at the time," I spat. "I might have gotten lucky with how I shot, but there was no way Will was going to make that last shot," I added, crossing my arms indignantly.

Eric took my raging without even blinking. "I wouldn't have had Will try to make that shot," he said smoothly.

"What's that supposed to mean? I took Will's place. He was going to have to make the same shots that-"

"No, I wouldn't have let Al move as close as he did if Will had been shooting," Eric interrupted shortly. "I was fairly confident that you weren't going to hit Mr. Teary-eyed."

My heart thundered in my ears. What kind of person was I dealing with here? Who puts someone in that kind of danger because of a hunch? "Fairly confident?" I echoed. He nodded, his trademark smirk slowly spreading across his face. "You risked his _life_ because you were 'fairly confident' in my _untrained _skills?"

"This is Dauntless. Part of the job is being ready to risk your life," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Initiation weeds out those who can't make the cut. People like Al need to be shown that this isn't playtime. We don't need members who are glorified dependents. They need to toughen up or get the hell out."

When I didn't reply, he tried to explain differently. "If you're on a squad, you expect that everyone there is going to have your back. You can't have people you don't trust there, especially someone who is terrified of what it takes to do the job," Eric further clarified.

I pursed my lips and thought about it for a moment. I had to begrudgingly admit that he had a point, but I didn't think that putting an initiate in front of a sniper rifle was quite the way to show that you needed to be tough in Dauntless. It didn't actually show any of Eric's rationalization; it just made people get scared and pissed at the person putting them in that situation.

"Well your method sucks," I grumbled, looking at my crossed legs defiantly.

He wasn't affected by what I said. "Oh well. They'll get it eventually, or Four will explain it in simple terms for those still too slow to pick it all up," Eric countered. He looked sideways at me, measuring me up. "Besides, you shouldn't be discounting your own abilities. That last shot was an impressive one."

I snorted, not quite ready to let go of my frustration and anger. "I shot my friend in the arm," I growled. "Not very impressive."

"No," Eric corrected swiftly. "You clipped his elbow because the idiot flinched and still managed to hit the bullseye. Not a single initiate today managed a shot even close to that today. Except you."

My anger vanished at his words. "Beg pardon?" I squeaked, refusing to believe what he was saying. There was no way I'd hit the bullseye. It just didn't seem possible.

He quirked his pierced eyebrow. "You did great today, even if your little stunt pissed me the hell off," Eric admitted with a chuckle.

I settled back against the wall, frowning as I considered what he'd told me. "Oh." He was complimenting me. Eric, god awful, terrifying, damn-good-trainer, selectively-nice Eric was actually complimenting me. "Thanks, I think," I mumbled.

He grunted in reply. "Forget about it." A much more amicable silence fell between the pair of us. My fingers drummed aimlessly on my knees after I stopped crossing my arms in a huff. It was nice for a minute, but as time dragged on I started to regret being in such close quarters with the young Leader. He kept looking me over, eyes lingering just a little too frequently on my face and new accessories.

"What's in the bag?" he asked. Once again he sounded completely genuine in his curiosity. "Retail therapy after a terrible day spent with the likes of me?"

I rolled my eyes at his joke. "Something like that. It was Christina's idea," I admitted. "She bought way more than I did, though."

That made him laugh. It was infectious and I felt a small smile spread across my face. "Well, for what it's worth you're better off not spending all your points like crazy. When you bulk up after all your training, you're not going to fit in your old shit."

"I'll keep that in mind," I promised. Somehow the idea of Eric giving shopping advice just seemed funny to me, and I had to resist the urge to laugh.

He pushed off the wall to tower over me. "I can see you're not taking my _very important_ advice seriously," Eric said with a sigh, "so I'm going to let you get back to your sulking in the dark."

I stuck out my tongue at him. "How kind of you," I said dryly.

He stepped backwards from the alcove, giving a mock salute. "You should wear that makeup more often," he added in a low voice, just barely over the sound of the chasm. "It makes you look intense. Very Dauntless." With a wink he turned and walked away without another word.

He was gone before I could even formulate a response, a blush swept across my face. Dammit, how did he do that? He made me go from wanting to punch his lights out to blushing at his compliments in ten minutes flat.

"Arrogant bastard," I growled to myself, burying my face in my arms to hide the flush. It took me another ten minutes to compose myself to head back to the dorms. _What a jerk_.


	11. Chapter 11

**Wow! It's been so very long. (Cue humorous laughter) I'm very sorry for the delay, but everything has been very hectic and **_**very**_** stressful. Graduate school is super hard, as is living in your own apartment with your new husband. But! Ultimately very rewarding on both accounts. **

**This chapter has been mentally written a thousand times on my commute to work and I've finally gotten it all down on the screen! As always, comments and reviews are very much welcome!**

The next few days were brutal. I got up painfully early every day, as usual, and made my way to the training room to run. It was empty when I got there and stayed that way the entire time I ran. Part of me was crestfallen. The more rational side of me grumbled that it was unreasonable to have expected Eric to show up every single morning. After the third day, I wasn't surprised anymore.

My goal each morning was ten quick laps, though I stayed for a few more depending on how winded I was. I left for breakfast sore and starving. Al was uncharacteristically silent at meals now. I thanked my lucky stars and tried to enjoy it while it lasted. Later on the first night, Christina told me Al's doped up attitude had just gotten worse after I'd left them that evening. It only made me feel more terrible about how I felt about him, which was purely platonic. Thankfully I didn't have much time to agonize over it with how busy we were.

Four was in an odd mood during training, unexpectedly patient with every question or comment that people had to say. Perhaps it was due to Eric's absence, which lasted all day long. Training itself was exclusively made up of long stretches of strength and endurance training with short breaks for Four to lecture us on Dauntless code of conduct.

It was exhausting.

My legs were aching by lunch and screaming by dinner time. On the second day Four had taken us out into the city, fully loaded with our assigned pistols and rifles. We also had the misfortune of being assigned backpacks stuffed with a variety of supplies. Theoretically this was to simulate the gear we would have on us in the field. Four took us on a circuitous route through the city in an effort to get us to memorize the streets. We got to take the train back, thankfully, giving us the chance to rest before more training back at the complex.

Three days after the shooting incident, Four gave us a new challenge. While we sat on the train, resting from hours of traversing the city streets, he revealed some rather unsavory news. "Listen up, initiates. You may have noticed that we're not heading back to the compound," he announced cheerfully.

Will, who had been deep in conversation with Christina, looked out the open train door quickly as though Four was lying. I also followed his gaze, hoping that this was just a joke. We were _bone _tired. Hell, this morning I'd given up after barely making my ten laps. There was no way I wanted to do any more walking today.

"I figured that there's no better way to test what I've been teaching you than by making you apply it. So stand up and get your gear," Four ordered. "You get to go home when you find your way back."

Myra looked ashen faced. "What if we get lost?" she whispered quietly to Edward.

"Don't worry, you can follow me. I know Chicago like the back of my hand," he assured her with a smirk.

I hauled myself to my feet, wishing that I was doing literally anything else. I didn't want to be caught off guard - "If you're worried about getting lost, then you should go first," Four retorted smugly. With that, he grabbed one of the straps on Myra's pack and forced her to the edge of the train doorway. "Congrats on volunteering to go first."

With a shriek, she tumbled out the doorway. I sucked in a tight breath, worried that she would get sucked into the spinning wheels. "Myra!" Peter called out, pushing past Four to look for her. All I could see from my vantage point was a dark mass.

"She's fine," Four said flatly. "You're next, after this turn." He tried to hold Peter to keep him from jumping, but the younger boy rolled his shoulders and glared hotly at his instructor. Despite his apparent anger, Peter waited for Four's command before jumping from the train.

Next was Will, Molly, and Christina before it became my turn. I'd tried to pay attention to where everyone else had jumped off, but I couldn't keep all the locations in my head. Plus I didn't want to get in trouble by trying to find them instead of going back to Dauntless.

I stared out the train door, my pack straps tight and my weapon holsters double checked that they were secure. "Ready?" Four asked me, tilting his head to meet my eyes. It was weird coming from him, especially after what he did to Myra, and I nodded tightly. With a sharp breath, I pushed off from the edge of the train floor and threw myself onto the road. The train's slipstream tugged at me, threatening to take my balance, but after two days of jumping on and off I had adjusted to the wind.

When I could no longer feel the rushing cars behind me, I turned to watch the silver train vanish quickly into the setting sun. West. The tracks were running west wherever I was. I let out the breath I'd taken and looked for anything that I recognized. The Hub stood out through the other buildings, resolute against the skyline. Between that and the track directions, I figured I was pretty far off from Dauntless, somewhere within the Candor living area.

"Fantastic," I growled to myself. I started off towards the nearest intersection, intent on making it back before darkness totally set in. The shadows stretched longer and longer as I walked. Once the side streets were completely in shadow, I forced myself to alternate between trotting and jogging.

My pack slammed into my shoulders with every step and pain radiated all along my legs. I was definitely overdoing it on the running, with my morning jogs on top of Four's forced marches. But I was making progress. I wasn't winded at all, just enormously tired, and I made it out of Candor to the edge of the Dauntless streets.

I thought I spotted another backpack-clad figure in the street parallel to mine, but they disappeared after a few intersections. Not really thinking much of it, I focused on where I needed to turn next to get to the main entrance to Dauntless. It was probably one of the others, intent on making it back before dinner was over.

"Don't bother running, Stiff," someone yelled from my left side. "Just give up!" When I turned my head to see who was shouting, something slammed into the back of my head. Everything turned red and then black. A ringing filled my head and pricks of pain exploded on the side of my face and arm. I couldn't understand why the world felt so sideways until I realized I'd fallen onto the pavement.

I blinked quickly, trying to get my vision back. Between the stars of pain and the shadows, I couldn't make out anything beyond a dark shape. I didn't hear them say anything else, but I sure as hell felt their boots slam into my stomach. I tried to get up and find the will to fight back, but all I could feel was pain.

They stopped kicking the crap out of me after what felt like an eternity. I didn't hear them leave, nor did I see what direction they went in. All I noticed was the asphalt by my hands slowly coming back into focus. And the pain slowly ebbing into "almost-manageable" territory.

"Come on, Prior," I growled to myself. "You gotta keep going."

At least that's what I was trying to tell myself.

Starting with one hand, I slowly pushed myself to be sitting up. Tenderly I pressed a hand against my ribs. Nothing felt busted, but I wasn't a doctor. I figured that I could attempt standing after another minute of careful breathing and pain management. "Trust this to have happened in the only empty street in all of Chicago," I panted.

I made it to my feet finally, fueled by rage and determination. Whoever it was - most likely Peter - was trying to keep me from finishing initiation. I couldn't let that happen. Not when failure meant living factionless, essentially cast out from society except to clean bathrooms, pick produce, and drive trains. And letting them win.

Step by painful step, I forced myself to make it to the next intersection. And turn down that street. And keep going until the next street. On and on I pushed myself, my ribs and head pounding with every step. Eventually I found one of the entrances to the garages and pounded heavily at the door.

A slit in the door opened, someone peering out cautiously. "Name and purpose?" They asked brusquely.

"Tris Prior. I'm one of Four's initiates," I spat. A wave of pain cascaded along my stomach when I spoke. I clamped my mouth tightly shut to keep from throwing up right there and then. The slot in the door snapped shut and my heart fell. Was there some final twist to Four's challenge? Had he told us to go through a certain entrance and I'd missed the order?

But then the door swung open, nudging against my boots as it did. "You're the last one in," they said matter-of-factly. "By about half an hour."

I nodded. There wasn't much I was going to say to that, even if I didn't feel completely overwhelmed with pain. The guard - an older woman - closed the door behind me. She took my gear bag from me, but not my weapons. Sluggishly I wondered why until I remembered that I needed to put them back in my locker in the training room.

The thought of walking all the way there and then all the way to the pit for dinner was miserable, but it had to be done. Maybe Christina would be in the training room when I got there and I'd at least have someone to sympathize with about what happened.

When I got there, though, it was completely dark. The resemblance to this morning was uncanny, though there was no sunlight trying to come in through the back windows. I shoved my pistol and rifle into my locker roughly, counting on pure muscle memory to disassemble both of them. I closed the door with a slam and turned to leave before realizing I still had my holster on as well.

Groaning, I fumbled through the combination lock and threw my shoulder holster in violently. Something caught my eye and I paid more attention to what I was doing. A small square of paper was stuck to the inside of the door, fluttering around when it opened. I tugged it off and squinted at it.

Tight, black writing was scrawled across it.

_You slacking off because I wasn't around? Ten laps should be nothing for you. _

It wasn't signed, but it didn't have to be. Something fluttered nervously in my stomach. It could have been from the pain, but a small voice told me it wasn't.

I left the training room as fast as my tired limbs could carry me. The sticky note was folded up tightly in my pants pocket, a question that I didn't want to think about the answer to. I had more important things to worry about, mainly whoever it was that tried to physically force me out of initiation.

The nausea in my stomach refused to quit, getting worse the more that I walked around. Just the thought of food made me feel even sicker, never mind what actually eating would do to me. I diverted from my path to the dining hall and started for the dorm to rest instead. Going down stairs was absolutely terrible and I stopped in an alcove to catch my breath.

God, I hoped I didn't have a broken rib. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, trying to keep a reign on my pain and growing fear.

"What are you doing, Tris?" A low voice called out from the hall. I hadn't realized I'd shut my eyes until I peeled them open to look out. Four had stopped just a few feet away, his head tilted sideways as he looked at me.

"N-nothing," I managed to spit out. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to stop leaning on the wall and walk back into the hall.

My instructor looked me over quickly, a frown creasing his forehead. "You look like hell," he said cautiously.

I looked away, staring at my hand by my side. "It was a long day," I replied evasively.

He didn't come any closer and his expression remained the same. "You're pale and breathing pretty heavy. Did you hurt yourself getting off the train?"

"I tripped when I was running back. It got dark and I couldn't see very well," I lied. I'm not sure where it came from. Dauntless didn't care about fairness, just results. Four didn't have to know that I had been attacked. I just had to pass initiation and prove I belonged.

His eyes narrowed slightly, and I prayed that Four wouldn't call me on my lie. "I'll be fine after I lie down," I insisted. "Just took a tumble." Without waiting for him to reply, I brushed past him to continue on my way to the dorm. I could feel his stare as I continued down the hall. When I turned to go down another hallway, I looked back at where he had been. Four was no longer there, thankfully.

I let out a deep sigh and dragged myself to the dorm without any more stops or conversations. It was blissfully empty and I threw myself onto my bunk. I didn't even get to take off my boots before I'd completely fallen asleep.

**Another quick note! I have no idea what the actual layout of the city is in canon, so I hope that I didn't totally mess up ^^;; Also, this ended up being **_**completely**_** different than what I'd been planning on in the end, but I really liked how things developed! Much more dramatic than my original idea.**

**Also, who do you think tried to knock her out? And will Tris try to exact revenge? (That's kind of a bad question, but I still want to knowww).**


	12. Chapter 12

Agonizing pain was my morning companion, urging me to awaken and begin my day. The ache in my sides throbbed, forcing me to finally admit defeat and peel my eyes open. The dorm was pitch black, filled with the quietly-breathing forms of my fellow initiates. I valiantly tried to turn on my side to sleep for longer, but that only made the aching worse.

I had to get up and try to do _something_ to make the pain lessen. Sucking in deep breaths, I sat up and staggered to the bathroom. My reflection stared back at me, surprising me with how haggard and sunken even my eyes looked. Twists of my hair had fallen out of its tie and were hanging in loose clumps about my face.

A shower would _definitely _help.

Peeling off yesterday's clothes hurt like hell, but the steaming hot water soothed my aches. By the time I got out and towelled off, I felt a thousand times better. Still no one else had gotten up yet, something I was thankful for as I rushed to get dressed, wrapped in my towel. Al's digital watch caught my eye and I cringed at the time. It was barely five in the morning, a good hour before even _I _got up for my morning run.

I sighed to myself. There was no way I was going to be able to fall asleep again, even after the hot shower. Picking up my boots like usual, I tiptoed out of the dorm and into the hallway. Slowly, I meandered through the halls until I reached the dining room. It was almost entirely empty, save for a cluster of Dauntless members quietly talking around mugs of hot coffee.

I smiled at the ones who made eye contact with me as I walked to the coolers. Grabbing a fresh water bottle, I prepared to make my way to the training room. As I was leaving the hall, I heard my name being called out.

Turning, I noticed that one of the people in the coffee circle was waving an arm at me. "Tris! I didn't recognize you at first!" they said loudly.

A smile spread across my face when I recognized who it was. "Hey, Tori!" I replied cheerfully, changing direction. She moved over on the bench and motioned for me to join her group.

"What on earth are you doing at this time of morning?" she asked curiously. I sat down next to her, trying not to bump into the menacing-looking woman who had been next to her.

I shrugged. "Couldn't sleep any more. I kind of crashed last night, so I figured I'd stretch my legs," I explained quietly.

"Who's the initiate, Tori?" someone in the group asked gruffly. After a quick round of introductions, I was still utterly confounded as to who everyone was.

Tori added after name exchange, "Tris was first jumper. She's also one of my clients." That prompted a round of ooo's and ah's, along with questions about what my "ink" was. I tugged back my tank top straps to better display the triplet of ravens, happy to show off Tori's work. That led to a round of showing off by the group - which I should have expected from a group of Dauntless.

After about five minutes of conversation, I felt more than a little overwhelmed, so I excused myself. Tori extracted a promise from me to come by and visit some time during the week. I gave her a final smile and left the dining hall.

Sitting down had been a mistake, as my body was rejecting the idea of moving again so suddenly. It wasn't unbearable though and I made it to the training room without incident. Compared to walking yesterday, this was a cakewalk. I set my water bottle down and gingerly stretched my legs and torso. Bending sideways made the bruises scream out in pain. I decided I was as limber as I was going to get and started off my laps at a slow trot.

My pace was much slower than usual, but I was determined to make it to my goal without keeling over in pain. After three laps I dared to speed up slightly and by the time I was on my ninth lap I started jogging properly. Moving tugged at my new, very tender bruises, but I was getting used to the pangs.

A noise caught my attention and I turned to look at the training room door. Pushing it shut was a face I hadn't seen in four days. "Morning," I called out as cheerfully as I dared. My reward was a tired wave in my general direction.

It was a start.

My focus returned to my jogging and I completed my tenth lap, officially having achieved my goal; However I didn't want to stop now, especially after the note I'd gotten yesterday. So I passed by the bench with my tempting water bottle and the form of my maybe-training-companion and I kept on running. Less than one lap later and the sound of footsteps in the room doubled.

I couldn't help the smirk that spread across my face. Another lap had wiped it off completely as my pain tolerance started to drop off. "On your left," a gruff voice called from behind me.

I moved slightly to the right and slowed, allowing him to pass by me. However, that wasn't what his plan was, apparently, as Eric jogged right next to me and matched my pace perfectly. Step for step, we jogged around the gymnasium in silence.

Finally I couldn't take it, darting a glance at him. "Isn't this a little slow for you?" I panted in between steps.

The bastard just shrugged his shoulders. "I would have said the same for you," Eric taunted.

I gasped, trying to come up with a response. The obvious response that I was bruised and hurting somehow slipped my mind and instead my genius retort was "bring it on, slowpoke." I started to push faster, my feet scrambling to match my overly ambitious mind.

Eric fell back behind me for a whole three seconds before he piled on the steam and breezed past me. The first corner rushed to meet me and I almost wiped out, my feet slipping over each other as I tried to turn. I got them back in control and pumped my arms, racing to match Eric's insane pace.

"Who's the slow one, again?" he asked, laughing over his shoulder. That just motivated me more and I forced my muscles into overtime. By the next corner I was only a few feet behind the cocky leader. Another lap and I was inches from his heels.

As we rounded the corner by the door, an insane idea came to mind. Somewhere inside, I remembered that I was bruised and _hurting_. But that wasn't the part of me that was trying her hardest to out-compete a literal running machine.

With a fierce cry, I ran nearly headfirst to the wall, diverting at the last minute to push off from the brick wall with one foot. The movement launched me a solid two feet in the air, careening onto Eric's shoulders. I think that I'd genuinely surprised him and he almost brought the both of us slamming into the ground. "What the-?" he cried out before his words cut off.

I fought to stay in control of the tackle, my arms locking around his neck. "Who's slow now?" I said stupidly, feeling a flush burn across my face. Eric came to a stop and I let myself fall off his shoulders in a not-so-graceful thump.

He turned to look at me, confusion written all across his face, his eyebrows furrowed. "Why did you do that?" Eric growled. I was thankful that he hadn't jumped straight to fury, but I had to act quickly to keep it from escalating.

"To win," I breathed quickly before dancing around him and rushing back to top speed. I made it to the lockers before it clicked and he started running again.

"You… you're insane!" Eric yelled, though there was no anger behind it. "How are you going to win? We didn't have a goal."

I didn't turn my head to look. I didn't want to lose an iota of speed. "Sure we do," I cheerfully replied. "It's one more lap to win." I had to suck in a few quick breaths before I could talk again. "And I'm halfway there!"

Swearing sounded from behind me, far closer than I'd hoped. I concentrated the rest of my energy on making it the last dozen yards across the gym and past the doorway to try to reach the benches. I dared to look over my shoulder as I made the corner, not wanting to get tackled by Eric in revenge. He was inches behind me and looking far less tired than I was feeling.

My feet slipped as I crossed by the doorway and I went down, hard. Entire galaxies flashed in my eyes as I landed on my bruised ribs. All thoughts of winning and the race in general vanished from my mind and I tried to keep tears from streaming down my face. "Shit-!" I heard Eric grunt as he rushed past me. A few moments later and I could see again.

The wind was still knocked out of me, and I wasn't really focusing on the blonde leader as he reversed direction and stumbled back to where I was. He might have said my name, though it was hard to tell from the pounding in my ears. I sucked in a gasp of air and blinked the tears away quickly.

"I'm fine, totally fine," I rasped. I don't think it was very convincing, though, as I still couldn't figure out how to move from my position on the floor.

Eric crouched down and hovered uncomfortably, his hands lingering close to my shoulders, but not actually doing anything. "Are you sure?" he asked. I nodded tightly and took in another deep breath.

"Just bruises. Not fun falling on them," I explained in short gasps. I risked rolling onto my back, blinking away the new stars in my vision. By the point in Dauntless I must have seen an entire universe. Moving ever so slowly, I pushed myself to a sitting position. "So I take it I didn't win the race," I laughed tiredly.

His grey eyes still sharply watching my every move, Eric shook his head. "Not quite," he replied gruffly. "That generally requires making it to the end without wiping out."

"Huh. I'll have to write that down," I breathed heavily. The pain was taking forever to subdue. Maybe it would have been better to have stayed in the dorm rather than training this morning, the rational part of me theorized.

Eric was still watching me intensely. "What did you mean by bruises? Four hasn't been making any of you transfers fight because of Al," he asked in a low voice. I noticed that he didn't call Al my "boy-toy" again, which was a relief.

"You know," I answered vaguely, gesturing into the air. "Training and all that jazz. Everything hurts most days." My breathing was back in control and I was starting to worry that Eric was going to keep asking questions about my injuries. It was just like with Four yesterday, but somehow worse. I didn't want either of them to know that I'd been attacked by someone; But with Eric I felt like I was a letdown because I hadn't been able to defend myself.

Tucking my feet under myself, I stood up shakily. "There we go. Perfectly fine," I insisted with a smile. Eric's expression didn't scream of being convinced, but he didn't ask any more questions. "Just need my water bottle and breakfast and I'll be good to go."

I turned and walked to the benches with the aforementioned water bottle. I unscrewed the top and gulped down a good portion of it, fighting every moment to keep my free hand from shaking. It was just the exertion and the stress, nothing more, that was making it shake.

Footsteps sounded from behind me and a tattooed forearm snagged the bottle from my hand while I was distracted. Eric slid onto the bench next to me, looking up at me with a smirk as he lounged there. "Just a little payback from last time," he said, shaking the bottle slightly before taking a swig.

That brought a smile to my face, though I fought to keep it from getting too manic. "No coffee for you today?" I joked, putting my hands on my hips. I rolled the cap to the water bottle between my fingertips, antsy now that I wasn't burning through energy willy-nilly.

Eric shrugged, taking another long swig. "Not yet. Don't want to burn through the caffeine before the day's begun," he said by way of explanation. "Speaking of which, you're awake early."

I averted my eyes, looking down at the wood grain of the benchtop instead of his silver-grey eyes. "How would you know? You always get in after I do. I could get up at five every day," I murmured quietly.

"No one voluntarily gets up at five. Not even crazy initiates who like to tire themselves out before doing even _more_ training," he retorted. "Besides," Eric added smugly, "there are sensors on the doors to tell when they get opened. You're normally here at six, not five."

It was hard to argue with him, though I wanted to. "I couldn't sleep, that's all," I said defensively. "Nothing more than that. And why are you looking up when I get up? Isn't that a little, I don't know, creepy?" I looked back over at him, folding my arms tightly across my chest.

Eric raised his pierced eyebrow, looking amused. "Trust me, I don't monitor every initiate's comings and goings. I just looked up the logs the other day so I could go running with someone else who was awake at the same time. Nothing more," he said smugly. "If you want a stalker, you should talk to your boy-toy Al."

I threw my hands into the air, stomping away from the benches. "For the last time, he's not my 'boy-toy.' And I don't _want _a stalker, obviously," I grumbled.

Something clicked in my head and I turned back to face him. "Hang on," I started. "You only looked up the door logs?"

He bobbed his head in affirmation, the smug smirk still plastered on his face.

"And you just want someone to run with? No other motives? They could suck and you wouldn't care."

"Yes?" Eric confirmed, though his smirk was fading.

I raised my own eyebrow and asked him smugly, "then why did you leave that note in my locker about only doing ten laps? Isn't that more than just wanting someone to run with at the same time?"

He didn't reply, but he blinked several times and his expression turned unreadable. I hadn't expected that to shut him up. Frankly, I'd expected some snarky comment about wanting a 'sufficient' partner or a 'challenge' or something of the like.

I chewed on my lip, not enjoying the silence that had fallen between us. "Well," I said uncomfortably, "that was just my question."

Eric pushed off from the bench and sauntered over, leaning in close enough that he probably could have heard my heart pounding. "Keep asking questions, if you dare. For now, I'll just say 'I'm curious' about what you're capable of, Tris," he murmured quietly. "That's why I woke up to run with you and pick your tired ass off the ground when you trip trying to race a leader," he teased, his tone becoming much lighter, very quickly.

My face flushed and I broke eye contact first, staring at the floor between my feet. Eric chuckled and brushed past me. I looked over my shoulder as he left, feeling like I always did, like I was suffering from the whiplash that came from a conversation with Eric.

Then I realized he'd taken my water bottle with him and I swore, loudly.

That wasn't the last time I would see Eric that morning. When we filed into the training room after breakfast with the the other transfers, he was lurking by the equipment tables. He had a knife out, picking at his nails with careful motions. Four stood by the punching bags and fighting ring, his expression back to no-nonsense after three days of relative calm.

"Okay, listen up initiates. We're going to start fighting training back up again now that we're all in working order," Four called out gruffly. He looked pointedly at Al, who shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "First up, I want Al and Tris in the ring. And no complaints from either of you."

I looked at my friend, shrugging. It was bound to happen with the initiate class being so small. After his fight with Christina I wasn't too terribly worried about getting beaten by the gentle boy.

Al refused to make eye contact with me, trudging towards the fighting ring with one hand clamped on his injured elbow. If I was smart, I would use that against him. Then again, I thought as I took up my position across from him, I might not even need that kind of advantage to beat him. I tried to give him a reassuring smile across the center ring, but he was far too distracted to notice.

Four ran over the rules again quickly - as though we'd forgotten that we couldn't tap out - and stepped out of the ring. After the call to "go!" I danced forward and launched a quick blow at Al. I was anticipating it not to hit at all, but he barely moved at all and I still glanced off his shoulder.

"Come on, man," I whispered. "You have to fight me." I swung a low kick at his knee, knowing it wasn't going to do anything against an opponent that much larger than me.

Al swallowed hard, cringing when my bare foot slammed into his kneecap. "You must have been mad when I shot you," I tried again, dancing backwards to avoid an open-handed slap from him.

"Not really," he whispered back. It wasn't the response I'd hoped to get from him. "I'm not that kind of guy."

I snorted before rolling out one of the series of blows that we'd learned on the first day. Every single hit landed in one way or another. Al couldn't dodge, hit, or block a blow to save his life, literally. Nor was he willing to put the energy in to even try. My goal to make him angry completely backfired and I found my own temper sparking.

"Then I'm sorry, Al," I hissed. "I really am."

I moved into overdrive, attacking him with rapid-fire blows with my fists, knees, and elbows. Within a few moments I'd bluffed him into exposing his face at the wrong moment and pounded an uppercut directly into his jaw. He cried out in pain and slammed down to his knees. Without even taking another hit, he was on the ground "out cold."

My stomach flipped and I looked over at Four for direction. I knew that _he_ knew Al wasn't out, but I didn't think Four wanted me to finish him off. There was no point when Al wasn't going to put up a real fight to try to stay in the round.

"And Tris is the winner," Four called out loudly. My fists came down and I nodded quickly. I felt even worse than when I'd fought Myra. At least she had tried to put up a fight.

Al pushed himself up and jumped down from the fighting ring dejectedly. Will offered some quiet reassurance to him, but I didn't hear what it was. I was focused on Eric, who had stormed over next to Four and looked positively furious.

"Please tell me that was a joke and you're going to start the _actual_ training now," Eric growled angrily. "Because that wasn't a fight at all. I've seen dependents take harder hits than that pathetic excuse of an initiate."

I started to move to jump down from the fighting ring, but Eric's sharp voice stopped me. "No, you stay there Tris. Scaredy-cat there might not want to fight, but that's not anyone else's burden to bear," he ordered.

Startled, I shuffled my feet and waited to see what exactly was going to happen now. Four glared at Eric and gestured widely. "Anything else I can help you with? Or are you done yelling at my trainees?" He retorted, his voice tense.

"I'm just getting started, Four," Eric said with a smirk. "Who was supposed to stay out today? Which one?"

Four's expression turned from irritated to angry and he flipped through his scoring clipboard. "Molly," he spat finally after a tense minute.

Eric waved his hand at the named girl, pointing for her to go into the ring. "It's your lucky day. You get to fight," he said with mock cheerfulness. "Tris, you get an actual challenge. Have fun."

I looked at his face and couldn't help my stomach flipping. This was my first real chance to show off what I was capable of. I wasn't stuck fighting the two worst ranked initiates. I had an actual challenge. I nodded once and turned to look Molly over carefully.

She'd already kicked off her boots and was bouncing on the balls of her feet. She was all smiles, a nasty grin spread across her wide face. "You're gonna get it good now, Stiff," she hissed. "You're gonna wish you were never born."

I didn't reply, choosing instead to rush at her. Before I got too close though I switched to a straight-on kick, aiming for her left arm. She managed to move out of the way, my blow glancing off her forearm ineffectively.

"Stop trying, Stiff," she taunted, throwing a punch at my exposed shoulder. I couldn't move my body quickly enough to avoid the blow, so I tried my best to roll with it. Another blow landed on my side, managing to hit one of my many bruises.

Stifling a cry, I finished my turn and moved directly into a punch and elbow blow series that Four had taught us just yesterday. My speed wasn't enough though, and Molly brought up blocks just in the knick of time. On the last punch she actually caught my fist and twisted me into a tight hold. "Don't embarrass yourself in front of your fuck buddy, Stiff," Molly whispered in my ear, her breath hot in my ear. "Sleeping with him isn't going to keep you on the top if your ribs are broken."

The comment caught me totally off guard and I blanked on the movement to break her hold. "What?" I grunted in astonishment.

That's when her knee slammed into my side and I felt the fight sway firmly away from my control. I gasped in pain and threw my elbow weakly at Molly's head. It actually collided, though it only made her hands weaken their hold, not drop my wrists completely.

She recovered quickly - being thick headed helps sometimes, I thoughts vaguely - and forced me onto my knees with sharp pressure against my spine. I had one last chance to try and knock her down to my level with a kick, but I just couldn't get enough air in my lungs to serve up a solid blow.

Another knee slammed into my side and I had to roll into a fetal position to get away. That's when her fists and feet took over, pounding into my skull and ribs until my vision narrowed to a tiny tunnel.

"Enough!" a low voice called out, but it was already far, far past enough for me. Molly's feet fade from my vision and I let out the breath I'd been clinging to.

I didn't remember drawing in another before the blackness overtook me.

Murmurs sounded around me, enveloping me as grey clouds swirled in front of my eyes. One of the sounds was familiar and the other was half remembered, like a dream. Nothing coherent passed through the clouds and I grew frustrated. _Why bother talking if you can't make the words make sense? _

I tried to blow away the clouds, but my mouth didn't want to cooperate. Sighing, I resolved to ignore the mumbling phrases as best as I could. However the more I tried to ignore them, the louder and clearer they seemed to become.

Words finally resolved and I caught the sound of my own name.

"-Tris fight that-"

"You're in charge of the initiates. Why-"

"-can't blame me-"

The words weren't all there, but I could almost tell who each belonged to. The louder one-

"Who lets someone with that many fresh bruises to fight at all?"

-That one belonged to Eric.

"How was I supposed to know about injuries that didn't happen during training?"

The other voice was harder to place. It almost sounded like someone from a long time ago, but that didn't make sense. Why would someone from way back be talking to Eric in the Dauntless infirmary? I had to be mixing a dream with reality.

Suddenly, everything clicked. I lost track of the conversation around me as I opened one eye carefully and looked at the room around me. The bed I was in was metal and white. Well, the sheets were white and carefully tucked in about me. Something beeped constantly next to me - a heart monitor - and the sound was speeding up. Oh yeah. That was me, waking up.

"You can't call yourself an instructor and _not know_ that one of your trainees is sporting two bruised ribs and what could have been a concussion!" The loud one - Eric, my brain supplied tiredly - brought the conversation back to my attention

A loud thump sounded as something fell to the floor with a clatter. "If they don't tell me, I _can't know_ that kind of shit. No fights happened for the past three days and I sure as hell would have noticed if something like that _had_ happened," Four growled.

"So bruised ribs just _happen_ magically?"

"Yesterday night she was looking pretty ragged - _like they all were after running half the city_ \- and said she'd taken a tough fall. I'm not their fucking parent. If they don't say 'Oh, Four, someone beat the shit out of me,' I'm not responsible for not knowing."

Tense silence.

Speaking of bruised ribs, I realized that nothing was hurting at all. Odd.

"Pull the footage from command for yesterday. See if you can tell what the fuck happened. I'm _not _having Max launch an investigation over hazing again."

"Fine. _Fine_."

An angry set of footsteps faded away, ending in a slammed door. I wondered why I didn't see any of it.

My eyes had closed again. That's why I couldn't see anything. Ah. That made sense. I pushed them both open, wincing at the light that was so brutally painful. I could see farther this time. Eric was standing a few feet away, his arms crossed with one hand resting on his mouth. Tense. He didn't look happy. How very Eric of him.

I tried to turn my head, but that caused a very unpleasant sensation. Pain. It was dulled, like I was feeling it through a tunnel or through a pool of water. It was very odd. I didn't like it at all.

"-ric?" I croaked, trying and failing to coherently say the blonde leader's name. The sound caught his attention and he started, turning quickly to look at me.

I tried to clear my throat and attempt again. "Sorry. Hi," I managed to squeak out. The words were coming out easier now. "I'm in the hospital, right?"

Eric cautiously stepped towards me, his face looking almost uncertain. That was odd. Eric was never uncertain. He was Mr. Dauntless-to-the-core. He couldn't be uncertain. "Not quite. Just the infirmary upstairs," he replied slowly. His voice was much quieter than it had been a minute ago.

I bobbed my head slowly in acknowledgment. "That makes more sense." The motion made the pain come back again for a moment, but it was just as dulled and I found it easy to ignore. "If I was in the hospital, I could have said hi to my mom. She volunteered sometime to help when they were understaffed," I babbled. "But if she saw me like this, I don't think she'd be happy. She and father thought Dauntless were hellians who took too many risks." I didn't know why I was rambling like this, but the words were coming easily out of my mouth. "Oops. Sorry, I don't know why I said that."

Eric's mouth twitched with a small smile, but he quickly went back to his stern, unreadable expression. "You've got painkillers in your system, Tris. They make you loopy. The doctor's also given you something to speed up healing those bruises," he explained quietly. I didn't like his quiet voice. It made me feel like I'd done something wrong, like when a teacher yelled at someone in class.

"You'll be out of comission for a few hours, but not much longer," he added.

I blinked slowly. "Wow. That's really cool. If I got a bruise before I just had to wait for it to fix itself," I mused. "But we've got bruise-be-gone stuff?"

I extracted a small chuckle out of Eric from that comment. "Well, it's not called that, but that's the basic idea. It's a very powerful steroid stimulant. Leading edge technology for Dauntless warriors," he explained.

"Sick-k-k," I said, giving a weak thumbs up. "So I can go down for dinner when it's all done making me not-bruised?" I asked. After the initial rush, I was trying to compensate for how the painkillers were making me feel. Remembering how uncomfortable talking with Al had been, I didn't want to make anyone feel the same way.

"You can go whenever they release you. But I'm sure they'll want you to stay for at least a few hours to make sure everything is healed."

"Bullshit. If I'm just waiting for bruises to heal, then I don't need to sit in a hospital bed," I mused. I tried to sit up fully, intent on leaving right then and there. Blackness swarmed at the edges of my vision and I almost toppled sideways from the bed. "Shit!"

Black tattoos replaced the black dots in my vision as Eric suddenly appeared at my side, his arms keeping me from falling to the ground. "Jesus, Stiff, if I knew you had a death wish, I would have just left you on the fighting mat," he snapped.

The anger and tension in his voice caught me off guard. I stilled the smile that had started to spread across my face and instead stared at my hands in my lap. "I don't have a death wish," I insisted hotly. "You don't have to stay here. I'll stay until they discharge me. I'll be fine." It was the third time in so many hours that I'd insisted that I was fine, and it was just as much of a lie as before.

A heavy sigh sounded from next to me. "You're impossible," Eric exhaled. "You know that, right?" I just shrugged. I thought the same thing about him. The enigma that I couldn't figure out.

"How did you get those bruises," Eric asked suddenly, "for real?" His voice had dropped all the bravado and the smooth confidence that was always present when we talked.

I shook my head. "I don't know. Someone came at me in the street. I should have been able to defend myself, but I couldn't," I answered honestly. Tears burned at the corners of my eyes and I swiped them away quickly. "I fucked up, just like today. Completely failed. Some Dauntless," I snorted. Another tear fought to escape and I squeezed my eyes shut, willing it to stay hidden away.

Eric remained still next to me, a constant reminder of the strength that I didn't possess. "I think I'm going to sleep," I insisted suddenly, leaning back into the pillows. I turned away, looking at the empty hospital bed next to me. "The painkillers," I said by way of explanation.

"Sure," he replied gruffly. "You should rest." I didn't hear anything else for a long minute before his footsteps finally padded away.

"Eric?" I called out quietly. Part of me hoped he wouldn't hear it, but of course he did.

"Yeah?" The footsteps paused.

"If you find out who did it, you'll tell me so I can beat the shit out of them, right?" I asked.

A silent beat. Maybe he'd left. Or maybe I'd dreamed what I'd said. The grey clouds were coming again at the corners of my vision.

"You'll have to get in line." The door opened and closed with a much quieter snap.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

**Whew! I was SO happy writing this chapter. Many, many things that I'd wanted to have happen ACTUALLY HAPPENED finally! Goofy Tris trying to tackle her intense instructor. Fighting Molly. Slightly dopy!Tris having a swell conversation with guilty!Eric. Which, by the way, is why he's being all strange in that last bit. He's trying to push the blame on Four for having Tris fight at all with her injuries, but he's equally to blame since he had her do a SECOND fight while suffering through a not-so-fun pile of bruises.**

**I would LOVE some reviews (beyond just "when's the next chapter!") on how their dynamic is going and what you think is going to happen next. Also, general reminder that my twitter is firelord65, where I make cryptic remarks about what's going on as I'm writing / how my daily commute is going, and my tumblr is feckyeslife, where I have a tracked tag telling you when to expect the next update!**

**xoxo **

**~Sarah**


	13. Chapter 13

"Tris! Tris you gotta get up, now!" someone shouted frantically, shaking my shoulders. I tore open my eyes and tried to see what in God's name was going on.

"Don't shake her, she's in the infirmary for Pete's sake!" a second voice chimed in from my other side. I did a double take, trying to see through the painfully bright lights to tell just who was waking me up so disgracefully. Will was to my left, looking quite concerned. Christina was the one being loud to my right, still shaking my arm.

I shoved her hand away tiredly and sat up on my elbows. "I'm up, I'm up," I groaned. "Now will you quiet down and tell me what's so damn important?"

Just then I noticed a very sheepish Al standing at the foot of my bed. "Excellent. The gang's all here," I muttered to myself. "Just a fun morning in the inf-"

Christina cut me off before I could ramble on anymore. "You need to get up and going. Four just woke us up - _all_ the initiates, not just transfers - and told us to go to the train tracks. Some kind of tradition, game, I don't know," she quickly recounted.

"And we have seven minutes left before they leave," Al added unhelpfully from the foot of the bed.

I sat up straighter, tucking stray hair back behind my ear. "Right now? You're leaving right now?" I asked frantically.

Will nodded. "_We_ are. You've gotta come with us. Immediately," he insisted. It was the most animated I'd ever seen him.

I kicked off the sheets and immediately regretted the decision. I wasn't sore, per se, but the motion sent my stomach into overdrive. "Ow ow ow, cramp!" I whimpered, hunkering over as the muscles spasmed.

"Probably from your treatment," Will offered unhelpfully. Christina continued to look frantic.

"I know it hurts - right, does it hurt? But, but we need to get to the tracks ASAP. If you miss another training thing, I don't know if your score can take it," she said, worry evident in her voice.

I nodded tightly. I might not know entirely what was going on, but if it was training, I knew that I needed to be there. "Got it. I can power through," I winced. The tightness was aggravating and impossible to ignore, but I had to get moving.

Stepping off of the bed, I shoved on the clothes that Christina handed me. God bless her for thinking to bring me something to wear. I was shoving on my socks when Al spoke up again. "Four minutes," he said in a pained voice. "Until they kick us all out."

I whirled around and glared at him. "Then go. I don't need three other people to help me put on shoes," I snapped. His wide eyes stared back at me in disbelief. "Go! All of you!" I insisted, waving at the exit door.

Will and Al started immediately, darting out in a clatter of stomping boots. Christina tried to stay and give me my boots, but I pushed her away. "I'm fine, just go with them," I growled, my fingers slipping as I tied my shoes quicker than I could function.

Christina whispered thanks to me as she, too, left the infirmary. I paused for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts as best as possible. I had to make it down to the train tracks before they left. And then make it through whatever training game _thing_ that was going on. Piece of cake, right?

My laces were in something resembling knots and I shoved myself back to a standing position. The motion sent another wave of almost-pain through me, but I prayed that the painkillers would last another few hours. With a resigned grunt, I set off at a trot through the halls.

The others must have been booking it because I didn't see any trace of them as I rushed down the stairs to the lower levels. By the last flight I was taking the steps two at a time, praying that I would make it in time.

My morning training paid off as I put on a rush of speed past the garages onto the loading area for the train. I tore through the doorway just in time to see the train slowly making its way out of the station.

"Oh _hell_ no," I whispered, forcing myself to keep running. Thankfully this was one of the areas where the trains actually stopped rather than just slowed down, so I had a little bit more time. Pumping my arms, I ran full throttle to the last open doorway and reached my arm up to grab the handle.

My fingers wrapped tightly around it, I kicked off from the ground onto the edge of the train door. A hand grabbed my free arm, pulling me farther inside. "Is this your hobby? Jumping onto moving vehicles?" Eric taunted me cooly, letting go of my forearm once my footing was stable.

I rolled my shoulders and bent over, catching my breath. I had a killer stitch in my side, but I had made it. "It's more fun than watercolors and cheaper than dirt," I wheezed in response.

The rest of the train car passengers, of whom I realized existed at just that moment, sat in mute surprise. Four blinked in rapid succession, apparently trying to process what just happened. "I'm sorry, but can you just tell me who said you were coming on this exercise?" he finally managed to spit out.

I tilted my head up to look at my instructor, trying to manage a weak smile. "I, uh, I did," I replied simply. "I heard we had training, so I made sure I made it on time. Well, almost on time," I added after another moment of silence.

Eric chuckled from behind me before leaning against the edge of the open door. Four's attention swivelled to him. "Why is this so funny to you? Twelve hours ago you didn't want her fighting and now you're okay that she's back in training?" he asked incredulously.

"Twelve hours ago she was sporting bruised ribs. She's been on steroids and enough codeine to block out an amputation since then. And I really don't think that Capture the Flag is quite the same as a knockout brawl," Eric replied cooly.

I could finally stand up fully, my breath caught. "All that," I added lamely. "And the fact that I _want_ to be here. I ran half the complex in, like, six minutes. That has to count for something, right?"

Four's glance flickered between the pair of us, some unknown wheels turning in his mind. After a moment he threw his hands up in the air and exhaled loudly. "Go ahead. But I'm not taking responsibility for any injuries," he grunted.

"She'll be on my team, then," Eric suggested. "I'll even give you first pick for teammates." I still had no real idea what the goal was for today's exercise, not to mention what the teams were for, but my stomach still flipped nervously when he offered.

"Fine. Whatever. Can we please get on track?" Four said dismissively. "The rest of you, stop staring out the doors and listen carefully." No one had been _not_ paying attention before, but people still shifted on their feet to pay closer attention.

"The game is Capture the Flag. The goal, surprise surprise, is to capture the opposing team's flag," Four explained. A pair of radioactively luminescent squares of cloth materialized from his pockets. "Teams will be made up of an equal split of transfers and Dauntless-born to keep everything even."

Eric stepped in at this point, walking over to a grey cargo crate that was strapped down in the train car. "Now to keep this from turning into a series of cage matches, you will all be armed with firearms," he remarked cheerfully. He pulled out an odd looking weapon with a bulbous object attached to the barrel.

"Firearms?" One of the Dauntless-born initiates squeaked fearfully. I had to agree with the sentiment.

With a smirk, Eric turned sharply and squeezed off a shot directly at the kid. She jerked back slightly as a splatter of bright blue ink smeared across her chest. "Paintball guns, to be exact," Eric replied. "We don't want anyone losing a limb before you've even become full members." He was definitely enjoying this.

Four took back over at this point, sounding far less chipper. "Get shot twice and you're temporarily out for ten minutes. Two more times and you're out of the round for good," he explained. "Headshot and you're out as well, so be careful."

They started the team selection process and I tried my hardest not to react to the choices. Will and Christina end up on Four's team, along with Drew, Myra, and a selection of Dauntless-born. I ended up with the glorious experience of being partnered with Peter, Molly, Edward, and Al. Worse, the Dauntless-born weren't any that I knew. Everyone besides me was stocky and strong looking.

I chewed on my lip as Four's group disappeared off of the train and I was left in my own personal hell. Eric gathered everyone around and laid down some additional ground rules. "Right, I don't care what anyone's beef is with anyone. CTF is one of the few Dauntless traditions that you'll get to be a part of and I do not want my team suffering a loss this year," he growled loudly. "You shut up, work together, and get the team a win."

A round of murmurs and nodding heads went around the group. Eric was clearly trying to bond the group through their competitive natures, something that might actually end up working. After another minute in the train, we piled off and started heading in a random direction.

"So what's the plan?" Peter asked loudly.

"Transfers shut up and let the Dauntless-born lead," the girl who had been shot earlier remarked snarkily.

Eric swore quietly and corrected her. "I don't give a damn who it is, but someone out of you twerps has to step up and establish order. Then you decide on a plan and execute it. So simple a Stiff could figure it out," he growled between steps.

I could feel Molly's glare at me after that comment, but I refused to let it bother me. "So we should find an area we can defend easily and then try to go find the other's flag," Molly said quickly. Clearly she thought that she could be that leader for the group.

"Best shots at the base, keeping out any raiding parties," someone else chimed in.

A few more ideas were bandied around, mostly about ideal locations. We were heading to the edge of the marsh that used to be a lake on the edge of the city. Just before we got to the legitimately marshy, wet terrain we stopped. The group had broken up into two parts by then and one half left immediately. They were our raiding party, hell-bent on making it to Four's location before they were ready for us.

Granted, they didn't know quite where that was. I was left with Molly, Drew, and half of the Dauntless-born and Molly had taken over calling the shots. I suggested that we find some high ground to attempt to spot the others' location, but my words went unheeded by our valiant leader.

"Fine, whatever," I growled to myself. I didn't need the rest of the team's support for my idea and damn if I was going to let Molly order me around. She clearly was still harboring some resentment towards me - Eric's speech on teamwork hadn't changed that - and I was sick of her sideways glances.

Shouldering my paintball gun, I set off out of the treeline. I was completely exposed for a good hundred yards - that was the reason we'd picked this spot - and I hustled to make it to the abandoned buildings that marked the edge of the old city. Once I got there, I looked around for the tallest point nearby. Way off in the distance was a ferris wheel, but that was completely impractical.

I spotted an old stone building with what looked like broken stained glass windows. An old church, complete with spiraling towers. Perfect.

I didn't take my finger off the trigger guard of my paintball gun until I'd made it all the way to the church. Once I got there, I tugged on the front door. It didn't budge.

My heart sank. How was I supposed to get in there if the door was locked?

There had to be another way.

I looked around at the other buildings in the street, but they were all one or two story structures. Nothing compared to the twin spirals at the ends of the roof. Something caught my eye in the alleyway near me and my hope was renewed. I settled my paintball gun onto my back and darted into the darkened street. A quick run and jump and I snagged the bottom rung of an old fire escape. With a grunt, I heaved myself up and swung a foot into one of the rungs. After that point, it was just a matter of heading up the rungs and onto the winding stairs to get to the roof of the building it was attached to.

_Piece of cake_, I thought to myself. Now I just needed to get to the neighboring roof and I would be able to get in through one of the broken windows into the church proper.

I trotted over to the edge of the building and tried very hard not to look down. There was a good three foot span between the building I was standing on and the roof of the one next to the church. "You might want to consider a running start," a low voice murmured directly behind me.

I must have been getting used to being startled by Eric, otherwise I probably would have jumped straight off into the alleyway below. I swallowed heavily and turned my head slowly. "Who says I wasn't?" I replied just as quietly.

He shrugged, the motion making moonlight reflect dully off his weapon. "No one. Just didn't want to scrape another initiate off the pavement," he said simply.

I winced, remembering Allison's tragic fall on my first day in Dauntless. That wasn't something I wanted to emulate. After a beat, I stepped carefully backwards. The roof was fairly clear, so I felt confident as I started running towards the edge. Without a noise, I pushed off the ledge and launched myself at my goal.

The gun on my back slammed into me when I landed, but otherwise it was a perfect jump. Moments later, Eric's dark form landed next to me, catlike and silent. I nodded at him and pointed at the church building directly ahead of us. He gestured for me to lead, which I did immediately.

Trotting slowly, I traversed the gravel-topped roof to the edge by the church. This was when I realized the flaw in my plan. The distance between this roof and the church's was almost double that of the last gap.

"If I might ask, what precisely is your goal?" Eric asked curiously. "Just a midnight rooftop jaunt to test out those ribs?"

"Ha ha," I laughed mockingly. "Hilarious. I was looking for a vantage point to find the other group. Something high enough to spot their movement." I kept scanning the area, looking for any kind of solution to this problem.

Eric bobbed his head, pausing to think. "You mean the carousel over there with all the people standing in a circle trying to make a plan?" he asked after a moment. I followed where he was pointing, feeling my stomach drop to my feet.

Just as he said, there was Four's team. They were far enough away that you had to look carefully, but their spot was on the open boardwalk, completely exposed to viewing from this vantage point. I swallowed hard. "Yeah. That one over there," I whispered dejectedly.

I felt about an inch tall just about then.

"Hey," Eric grunted, stepping closer to where I was standing. "Don't make that face. You think you're going to be the only one who has a clever idea?" He slung his gun onto his shoulder, tilting his head as he looked me over.

I fought to shove away the disappointment and frustration that was washing over my face. I settled for a scowl and called it good. "Nah, but that doesn't mean it won't piss me off when it happens," I retorted.

Sighing, I looked up at his face. The moonlight turned his hair platinum and the deep shadows made his eyes glint even brighter in intensity. I was staring for too long, I knew it, but I couldn't stop.

"You've got to suck it up and keep going," Eric finally replied, lightly punching me in the shoulder. "What do you think this exercise is for? To goof around at four in the morning?"

I took a moment to consider just what he meant. Everything Dauntless did in initiation had a purpose, whether it be to build skills or test bravery. Obviously capture the flag was the same way.

"It's to test adaptability, isn't it?" I slowly reasoned out. "We make teams, plans, and try to get the others' flag, but we have to keep changing the plan every time something new arises."

He nodded tightly. "And teamwork, endurance, and fieldwork," he murmured quietly. "But that's the basic concept."

We were still looking at each other, unmoving on the rooftop. I could count the number of bars in his neck tattoo, we were that close and still.

The sound of shouting and puffs of air from paintball guns broke the spell. I jerked my head in the direction of the noise, twisting my weapon to be at the ready. Eric moved even quicker, darting to the edge of the rooftop, sighting down the barrel of his weapon at the source of the commotion.

I followed behind quickly, moving to crouch down in a sniping position. "They're too far away," Eric breathed, bringing his paintball gun back to his side.

He was right, of course. It looked like our raiding party had collided with theirs, causing the skirmish. I nodded tightly. We had to get there, fast, before our group was eliminated.

I stood back up and examined the area. We could get to where the group was by rooftop, I was almost certain of it. "Follow me," I said quickly, heading in the direction of the fighting. I didn't stop to think or wait to see if Eric would follow. I knew that he would and that we needed to back up our group. That was that. It was pure instinct.

My feet practically flew across the rooftop as I threw myself over to the next adjoining roof. Over and across we moved, scrambling to head to the staccato sound of gunfire. The last hurdle was significantly farther than the others before, but I barely thought about that. I just ran with all my might and launched myself into the open air.

Painfully, I stuck the landing, sharp pain radiating along my shin bones. I bit my tongue instead of crying out in a desperate attempt to stay quiet. Eric slammed onto the roof next to me, closer to the edge than I had been and far less gracefully. I grabbed his shoulder to keep him from falling off, which was easier said than done.

He clasped my arm quickly in thanks before we turned and made off towards the site of the fight. The shouts had calmed down, but there was still quite the battle going on between Uriah, Myra, Al, and Peter. Uriah had the Al and Peter pinned behind a green dumpster, a constant surge of paintballs pelting them any time they tried to make a move. I spotted Myra circling to try and reach them from the other end of the street.

I pointed at myself and then Uriah, meeting Eric's eyes. He nodded and took off to the side, mirroring Myra's motions. Carefully, I approached the side of the roof. There was a slight lip which I rested my gun on, giving me some stability. I didn't want to reveal my position without hitting Uriah, but I had to act fast or it wouldn't matter whether I hit him or not.

Lining up my shot carefully, I took in a slow breath. And exhaled smoothly, squeezing the trigger twice in succession. I heard a similar pair of shots a moment later, followed by Myra shrieking. Uriah grunted in surprise, swiping at the neon blue dye that was staining his hair. "The fuck?" he called out.

"Headshot- you're out of the game, Petrad. No talking," Peter yelled in reply, his head peeking out from behind the dumpster. He looked just as confused as the other boy, but he was taking it better. His eyes tracked up, passing right over where I was crouched.

Al nudged him and pointed at where Myra was sitting, looking dejected. She was shot in the chest twice, out for ten minutes but not forever. He and Peter scrambled to their feet and went over to where their "wounded" were. One of the Dauntless-born was out completely, but two more would be good soon.

Eric jogged back over to where I was and motioned that I should stand up. "Nice shot," he complimented quietly. "Just do that a few more times and the win will be in the bag."

I smirked, feeling vindicated from earlier. "Then shouldn't we keep going, before Myra and her fellows are back in the game?" I asked cheerfully. Eric nodded, his expression matching the same predatory look that I felt on my own face.

We stepped back for another running start and made the leap onto the next rooftop. That caught the attention of the other members of our team, who gave us a silent thumbs up. Everyone was somehow on the same page: ignore the two shadowy figures on the rooftop.

Peter and Al helped move the "injured" teammates along, stopping a few blocks down to regroup once they were back in the game. They made a plan to keep an eye out for the strike team coming up from behind us now while we advanced towards the carousel. I made eye contact with Eric and pointed behind me with my thumb. _I'll watch the rear_.

He shook his head and pointed at his own chest. I frowned. If anything, he had more experience and would be better off supporting the attack team. But I didn't want to argue with him. He had solid instincts about the game thusfar and he probably had learned from the last two times he'd played.

We got to the farthest point we could get on rooftop, about fifty yards away from the carousel itself. Eric and I had split up, with him taking up position on the last rooftop to watch for back attacks. Our attack squad was coming up in a tight group of four, staying as close to the shadows as possible.

"I see something!" I heard Christina call out frantically. "Eric's group is here!"

Some neon green paintballs came flying out from behind one of the seats of the ride. They splattered harmlessly on the ground near where the strike team was, not hitting anyone that I could see. I lined up my gun with where the projectiles had come from, waiting for my moment.

That's when the strike team split up completely, becoming four separate figures that rushed at the carousel from totally different directions. Puffs of compressed air filled the air as the two teams tried to pelt each other with ink. This was my time.

I squeezed the trigger quickly, aiming for the dark figure who was slowly peeking out of the chair as they focused solely on their running target. Four shots off and I'd definitely hit them enough to take them out of the next ten minutes.

I quickly redirected my attention to the next person I could see in the carousel. They were set farther back, but they'd picked one of the horses as their shield. From my vantage point I could definitely see most of their chest and all of their face. Two shots off and I hit them at both points. Out completely, thanks to the ink running down from their ear. Marlene swore loudly before dropping her weapon in frustration.

That was two down from me alone, combined with the force of our attack team. I looked for any remaining green paintballs flying and was satisfied to see there weren't any more. Al was down, as were the two Dauntless-born from earlier, but Peter was carefully approaching the carousel.

I stood up to check that we had in fact eliminated the entire threat and that's when I saw him. Four was crouching just below where I was sitting, his weapon trained on Peter's exposed back. The idiot was walking right into a trap. I had a split second decision to make: I could either call out to him and that would let him dodge fast enough, or I could try to take Four out on my own.

The latter played more into my current desires. And I didn't really mind if Peter took a paintball to the back of his skull.

I took a few steps to the side and jumped from the ledge, firing at Four as I fell. I heard Eric bellow my name - the loudest he'd spoken since the train, part of me noticed - and both Peter and Four turned their heads to look at the sound.

Four's shot stayed true unfortunately, but so did mine. Three spatters of blue paint clustered on Four's chest, just over where his heart would be just as my feet slammed into a decaying tarp that was strung as a makeshift awning. The collision made me cringe, but I'd already seen the fruits of my labor.

I was tangled up in the blue-black piece of cloth, but I had more or less made the drop safely. My mind still on the prize, I rolled out of the tarp onto the worn wooden planks of the boardwalk. Peter was face-down on the ground, his hands clasped around the back of his neck. Incoherent swears were coming from his direction.

We still hadn't won yet, though, and I made a beeline for the carousel. I still had my gun tight in my grips, ready for another surprise hidden enemy. But there weren't any more as I stepped onto the metal platform, dancing between horses and fantastical beasts to reach the glowing square that was hanging from one of the support beams.

I tugged down the green fabric and let out a whoop. "Suck it! We beat you so freaking good!" I yelled, dancing back into the open area. Four's teammates were completely disgusted, wiping off their blue wounds tiredly. Christina tumbled out from the chair I had shot at, her front a smear of paint.

I was riding a high that I never wanted to come down from.

Peter, Al, and our other teammates were in far better spirits than the other team, rushing over to see the flag that we'd claimed. I passed it over to them, my attention focused on the dark form of Eric climbing down from the rooftop. He stormed over to where we were clustered. "Do you. Have. A death wish?" Eric growled in his low, intimidating voice. But the menace wasn't there, reduced by the concern that was in his eyes.

I stepped over to him, meeting him head-on. It was definitely the endorphins that were keeping me from quaking in my boots. "No _sir_, I don't. There was something to break my fall and someone needed to stop Four," I retorted, gesturing to the other team leader who was emerging from the shadows to reassure his team.

Eric's ground his teeth together and I swear that I could hear them. "I swear to God, you'll be the freaking death of me," he hissed between clenched teeth.

I swallowed hard before smiling slightly. "But _we _won. They didn't know what was coming for them," I insisted as cheerfully as I could, emphasizing the we. The green flag made its way back to my hands and I passed it to Eric.

_That_ made his expression soften, especially when Four shoved past him to reach the rest of his teammates. "Next time, try to win without killing your team leader in the process," Eric grumbled.

Smirking, I nodded. "No dropping from rooftops. Got it," I teased.

With that, we began the long process of gathering the rest of the initiates, including Myra and the few others from Four's team who had gotten lost trying to find our base's location. By the time we jumped into the train cars, the sun was rising over the wall. I turned and leaned against the doorway to watch it finish rising as we returned to Dauntless.

What a morning.

**A/N:**

**You should literally never expect back-to-back updates, like, ever. But I am VERY happy that I got to give you a back-to-back update! I was procrastinating doing my CSI presentation / CSI Report / AOS Paper / literally everything else that is due this week and trying to squeeze every moment of enjoyment I could out of this holiday weekend. **

**Again, please rely on my Tumblr for more accurate updates, but as of today (11/29) I will probably not update until after my defense and exams (minimum of 2 weeks, plus Christmas stress will not help productivity). **

**Cheers and happy reviewing!**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Before we get going, a quick note. **

**I'm running a Christmas / Holiday Fic Prompt contest open to all of my readers! Full information is on my tumblr (feckyeslife) under the link in the sidebar that says "Current posts about Prove It", but the gist is that I'll be picking 1 prompt sent in by a reader to get a multi-chapter fic and a couple others for oneshots. Submit via PM or by any of the other means mentioned in the blog post. **

**Without further ado, please enjoy! Comments, reviews, constructive criticism is always appreciated!**

When we returned from the field everyone in my collection of friends immediately headed back to the dorm for some rest. Four told us that we didn't have to report to the training room until noon so most of the initiates wanted to take advantage of the time off.

"Tris, hang on," Four said quickly after dismissing the groups. He twitched his fingers, summoning me closer. I nodded goodbye to Will and Christina. I stepped towards my instructor, crossing my arms tightly.

"Yeah?" I asked. My previous conversations with him hadn't always been terribly civil.

He mirrored my crossed arms. "I just wanted to follow up on your injuries," Four explained. "Make sure that you're alright."

_Cover his ass to keep Eric from calling him out again._ I nodded stiffly. "I'm fine. Not really hurting anymore, which is great," I replied cooly.

"Tris, can you remember anything about what happened to you?" he asked. I recalled how he was supposed to look over the security footage from that night. If he was asking me about it now, he probably didn't find much. Damn.

"Even just where they came from? What they looked like at all?" Four continued to push.

"Sorry, no," I insisted. "Trust me, I wish I knew who the asshole was. I just don't." I bounced on my heels, wishing that the whole subject could just be dropped. Someone clearly hated me. So what? I was still going to give it my all in initiation, regardless of what they thought. And I really didn't want to keep dwelling on the fact that I'd been jumped by someone.

Four chewed on his lip and nodded tightly. "Okay then. If you remember anything, let me know," he said finally. With that, I left the train platform to find where my friends had gone to. That was when I realized they'd gone to crash for the rest of the morning.

Thanks to my little stint in the infirmary I wasn't feeling tired at all. Sitting on the train as we travelled back to Dauntless had been enough rest to bring me back to full awakeness, and now I was itching to do _something_.

I wandered for a while, my hands stuffed into my pants pockets and my head down. Eventually I found myself heading to the training room out of instinct. It was empty and I closed the door behind me. Of course it was empty. We still had six hours until training started and I had nothing better to do than lurk in the gymnasium.

I really knew how to live it up in my spare time.

Since I had plenty of time, I decided I'd do a little maintenance on my gear. I unlocked my locker and pulled out the weapons that I'd accumulated from the past dozen days of training. Carefully, I brought them over to one of the tables on the side of the room and broke them down. The cleaning tools were in one of the unlocked lockers, and I set about giving every piece of tooled metal a thorough cleaning.

The methodical motions were soothing, reminiscent of the repeated movements of my mother's knitting. I lost track of how long I was sitting there, my legs crossed as I perched on a stool. It was a nice break from the breakneck speed of my new faction.

And it really was starting to feel like _my_ faction. The training that we were doing with Four was intense, yes, but it was so very different from anything I'd ever done back in Abnegation. After we were full members we would get to pick a real job, though I think that training was still a big part of Dauntless to make sure that we were always ready for anything. From what I'd seen of Dauntless life, any job that I ended up with would be tough.

I rebuilt my pistol, moving the slide smoothly into place. When I turned to put it next to my completed weapons, I realized that I'd finished cleaning everything. My fingers drummed on the tabletop and I tried to think of anything I could have missed. Every single piece had been taken apart, cleaned, and oiled to perfect working order. I was officially out of things to do.

I stood up from the stool, stretching to get rid of the stiffness in my back. The steroids and painkillers yesterday really had done the trick. I could move comfortably and easily now.

The door rolled open and I turned at the sound of the wheels moving in the track. My lips twitched in a smirk at the sight of the person walking inside. "I think you train more than the initiates," I called out jokingly to Eric as he slid the door shut behind himself.

He looked first at the lockers before his gaze moved to where I was standing. "I have to if I'm going to show up pesky transfers," he retorted. His mouth mirrored my smirk as he walked smoothly over to the table.

"Doing some shooting practice?" Eric asked curiously, raising his pierced eyebrow. "I didn't think that Four left the ammunition open when he wasn't around."

I shook my head and picked up my pistol again. "He doesn't. I don't think he trusts us quite yet around live ammo without supervision," I replied. "I had some free time and thought it wouldn't hurt to do some cleaning."

He nodded in approval. My sniper rifle ended up cradled in his arms as he looked over my work. I ignored the butterflies that were living it up in my stomach as I picked up another pistol - a machine pistol that we'd only worked with once - and made my way back to my locker. I tucked the pair away before turning to look at Eric. "Are you going to keep that or can I put it away?" I asked loudly.

Eric turned sharply to face me, sighting down the barrel. I chewed on the inside of my cheek. _ Nothing to worry about. It's unloaded and totally harmless._ Still, the sight was nerve racking. After a beat, he pulled the rifle away from his face and replied cheerfully, "I've got a much nicer model, so I think I'll let you take this back." He didn't move from his spot, forcing me to come to him.

I stomped back over and tugged the rifle from his fingers. He offered no resistance and just continued to meet my eyes levelly. "Thanks," I murmured before going back to my locker. The room stayed silent as I put the last firearm away. I closed the locker door with a snap, twisting the combination lock to relock it.

Then it occurred to me that I didn't have a plan for what I was going to do next. My head turned to look over at Eric, still standing by the weapons table. His palms were resting casually on the table behind me and he was rolling his neck, stretching. "You have no idea what to do now, do you?" his voice rumbled across the room.

I tapped one of my heels on the floor, trying to come up with something to occupy my time for the rest of the morning. "I may be a little… bored," I admitted finally.

He chuckled and resumed his staring at me. "The cleaning gave it away," he said lightly.

"Come here," Eric said quickly, pushing off from the table. He moved to the fighting ring, stepping onto the powdered surface with a small jump. I walked slower that he had, unsure if I really wanted to do actual training. After all, this was the first morning off that I'd had in awhile. And capture the flag hadn't been completely effortless, either.

My feet still led me to the ring, ignoring the complaints from my rational mind. "Up here," he ordered, gesturing with one hand. I sucked in a deep breath before jumping up onto the mat.

"I did just recover from bruised ribs," I said warily, looking Eric over intently. He stood across from me, his feet already in a fighting stance though his hands were apparently relaxed at his sides. "If you break anything, I'm not explaining it to the doctors."

He barked out a short laugh. "I'm not going to break you," Eric insisted. I swallowed a nervous retort, bringing my hands into a guard position.

"So I should-" I began to say before I was cut off by a quick motion. Eric stepped in close to where I was, forcing me to dart backwards to avoid a fist coming straight for my face. My question died in my throat as I dodged a series of punches and elbows. _Damn, Eric was fast_. I had to be quick on my feet just to keep his pace, never mind make my own offensive move.

An opening presented itself and I recklessly took it, darting to circle to his left. I jabbed my elbow forcibly into his side. The blow stayed true and I even conjured a grunt of pain from Eric. But I still was careful, moving out of range with another quick step. No sense in getting cocky.

There was a slight lull as we circled each other, searching for an opening to take. I kept my guard up, my fists protecting my face. Neither of us spoke.

Then, I saw my chance once again. His foot stuttered on the mat, making him lose his balance for just a moment. With a grin, I moved in and threw my knee up, going for his torso once more. He was quicker still, though, and his arms wrapped around my thigh. His vice-like grip held me fast, and I found my arms pinwheeling as I sought my balance.

_He'd tricked me!_

The world spun around and my shoulder collided painfully with the mat. "Nice try, but you're too predictable," Eric taunted, lurking above me. My sight cleared and I grimaced. He extended a hand to help me back up, which I took gratefully.

Then we were squared off again, our guards up and faces grim with determination. "I'll try to be more surprising then," I growled before attempting a feint. He didn't go for it, batting away my jab effortlessly.

"Impress me, then," he retorted. The challenge goaded me on, pushing me to surpass what I'd shown before in my fights against Molly and Myra. Every blow that I couldn't dodge, I sucked up and kept moving. I landed a few solid blows of my own, though not enough to completely knock Eric down.

Every time I ended up down on the mat, he'd give a few pointers on what I'd done wrong. And every time I got back up, I wanted to wipe that smirk off his face a whole hell of a lot more. We sparred back and forth for a while, probably for a lot longer than it felt. Sometimes I kept him on his toes for a whole ten minutes, dodging his attacks with equal energy.

I was sore and my knuckles hurt like hell, but I could tell he was getting just as tired. His feet scuffled the floor slower that before and his guard took a few moments more to come back up after he struck. I just wanted to knock him down once just to prove that I could.

I grasped his arm once again after being thrown over his shoulder and dropped onto the mat. But this time, I tugged back in an attempt to drag him down. It almost worked, I think, because he had to stumble forward to keep his balance. "Very funny," he grunted.

"I like to think I'm hilarious," I retorted with a toothy grin. We circled once more, eyes darting. I stopped short, reversing direction and throwing a fist at his side. He grunted, moving to take the blow on his shoulder. When he did, I swept my knee up and caught him in the back of his leg. The combination was effective, knocking him completely off balance.

It was enough of an opening that I could push myself up on my toes and slam my elbow right into the crook of his neck. Not very powerful on it's own, but with his loss of balance and his knees bent from my kick, it pushed him to the floor. Eric managed to keep one knee up, not completely down.

I had the height advantage now and I went full throttle. He tried to grab my waist to bring me down to his level, but I forced his arms away. My right knee slammed hard into his chest, just enough to keep him distracted and stunned. That's when I pulled back my fist and let loose what I hoped would be a knockout blow.

My knuckles collided with Eric's forehead and I could swear I heard the _crack_ of bone on bone. The shock reverberated through my arm, but I ignored the sharp pain. Eric went down hard, his shoulder slamming into the mat with a solid _thwack_.

"Jesus Christ, Tris," he groaned, his hand coming up to cover where I'd punched him.

A wave of panic rushed over me and I quickly sank to my knees next to him. "Are you alright?" I croaked out, my hands still clenched in fists.

He cracked one eye open and looked up at me. "You really like hitting me in the dermals, don't you?" Eric growled, his hand still rubbing his forehead gingerly.

My face flushed and I remembered how I'd hit him there the last time we'd fought. Quickly I looked down at my hand. Sure enough I had a pair of cuts between my knuckles, a mirror of his facial piercings. "I didn't mean-"

"Shut up," he cut me off quickly. "I'll live." His hand moved away from his face and he gingerly pushed himself up almost to a sitting position.

"You know, if you were anyone else, I would kick your ass for that," he said, though the anger was gone from his voice.

I relaxed, shifting to a more comfortable sitting position. "Thanks, I think?" I replied. "Though you kind of already beat the crap out of me."

He chuckled. "That's why I'm not. It'd just be boring twice in one day."

I rolled my eyes at that. A comfortable silence settled around us. I took the moment to catch my breath and relax my tense muscles. Eric seemed to be doing the same thing, his chest expanding in slow, even breaths.

Turning my attention back to his eyes, I asked, "So did I get any better from the first time? Less predictable?"

Eric shrugged one shoulder, a glint in his eyes. "Well, I would say overall you're getting better. But you're still apparently obsessed with my face," he taunted in a low voice.

"Very funny," I said sarcastically. "That's not true." I felt a slight flush come over my face again, though. He _was_ good looking, something that was becoming more and more apparent to me every time we spent time together. Hell, I noticed it even in the dining hall, though I shoved the thought away fervently.

"Mmmm," he hummed deeply, not saying anything.

I had to look away, staring at the metal tresses across the ceiling. "Can we talk about something other than your face?" I asked quickly.

"Sure," he replied smoothly. "Maybe now you'll tell me what your tattoos mean."

My head jerked back down, meeting his gaze. He was looking intensely at me, focused on my eyes. Then, slowly, his gaze trailed down to look at my collarbone. Only the edges of the ravens' wings were visible, the rest obscured by my shirt.

"May I?" he purred, lifting a hand from the mat casually. He reached out and touched the edge of my shirt. My heart was pounding and suddenly I had to think very hard just to breathe.

I nodded slowly, just once.

His fingertips curled ever so slightly and tugged the collar of my shirt down, exposing the trio of ravens that flew along my chest. He stopped there, just resting his hand to keep the cloth out of the way. "Why ravens?" Eric asked, his voice still low.

I shook my head. "I- There's no real reason. I just liked the imagery," I replied. My heart still felt like it was in my throat. Eric probably could have felt my heartbeat, it was pounding so quickly.

His eyes flicked up to mine before returning to the ink that was embedded in my skin. "Then why three? Someone like you doesn't just get a tat like this for kicks," he continued. I wished he would go back to his usual, taunting tone.

I swallowed hard. "My family," I managed to get out. "My parents and my brother."

Eric nodded slowly. "You left them behind," he reasoned. I just nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

He let go of my shirt collar, his fingers ghosting down my chest before returning to the ground. A shiver lit down my back. His eyes were still focused intensely on me, and his expression was carefully neutral.

"Do you miss them?"

I exhaled a slow breath, pausing to think. I missed having everyone together, yes, but I no longer missed my old faction. That, I think, was the trick to his question. Faction before blood was one of the strongest tenets of our city. It's what kept the system working. "I miss us all being together, the familiar routines," I answered slowly. "I'm not sad that I left Abnegation, that's for sure, but it's weird not living with them anymore."

Eric nodded evenly and finally looked away from me. "You'll get used to the feeling. Everyone does," he murmured.

"The woes of being a traitor," I joked. A wry smile twitched across his face and he grunted in agreement. It occurred to me that he might have been a transfer, too. I'd never seen him with anyone resembling family, nor had he mentioned any relatives in any conversations I'd heard. I tried imagining what faction the brutal leader had come from.

Definitely not Amity, that was obvious. I don't even think someone growing up in Amity would ever want to transfer to Dauntless. I couldn't remember anyone named Eric living in Abnegation with me, so that was also out. He didn't have a big enough mouth to be Candor, so that only left Erudite.

I opened my mouth, about to ask him if he missed being an Erudite, but didn't get the chance to speak. He was on his feet, extending a hand to pull me up. "Just try to get over that feeling before long," Eric warned. "Loyalty is what keeps Dauntless strong. We watch out for each other before family or anyone else."

He didn't let go of my arm until I nodded, the intensity in his eyes impressing the severity of his words. "Faction before blood," I parroted back. His grip loosened and his expression softened.

"Atta girl."

My stomach twisted nervously. If I had to choose between family and faction, would I really be able to choose faction? Did I have a choice either way? Betraying Dauntless would almost certainly mean being cast out to be factionless.

_It's not going to happen_, I thought fervently. I could tow the line, follow the rules. After all, I wanted to belong. I _did_ belong. I didn't have to be selfless anymore.

I walked to my locker mechanically, still lost in my thoughts. When I finally collected myself and realized that it was almost eleven - lunchtime - I was alone in the training room.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: This chapter has been the hardest for me to work on for a multitude of reasons, the primary reason being time and the next being a lack of direction. Ch 14 wrapped up one of the bigger arcs I had been focusing on and as such this chapter has been just rattling around in my mind forever with no direction. Thankfully, I think I found it again and hope that you guys enjoy it just as much as the others! **

**Big thanks to Meag for letting me bounce ideas off of her for weeks on end! Also, general reminder that I have been slowly working through the Holiday Contest prompts. Currently Ch 1 of the multi-chapter fic (A Permanent Misunderstanding) and one oneshot (Close Encounters of the Elevated Kind) are available on my profile if you haven't seen them yet!**

The tension in the training room was palpable as soon as we were all gathered together again. It wasn't between the initiates, either. Both teams had exchanged high fives and handshakes as they filtered in, commending each other for a fair game earlier. Peter may have squinted his eyes when he shook Christina's hand, but I had to admit that he didn't say anything sarcastic.

Four and Eric however were far less amicable towards each other. The former watched Eric through slitted eyes, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed tightly. Eric blatantly ignored him, whistling to himself as he unpacked a crate full of slim metal cases. Only when he turned around to address Four did I realize how one-sided the tension was between the pair.

"Hey number boy, gather the troops," Eric barked out cheerfully, snapping one of the metal cases open. I couldn't tell exactly what was inside the box, but whatever it was glittered against the dark foam. Four huffed out a tense breath and shoved off from the wall, his shoulders rigid. Barely-concealed contempt lingered on his face. His reaction only made Eric smirk.

Four bellowed loudly over the eager chatter between transfers. "Shut up and circle up," he yelled, gesturing to the space around Eric. "Today's a short day but that doesn't mean you get to slack off."

Christina immediately clamped her mouth shut, though she wasn't able to resist rolling her eyes at Will. I stepped into the loosely-formed circle next to him, letting out a single quiet laugh before shutting up as well. Al made a motion at Will to swap places, but the smaller boy seemed to not notice.

I carefully concealed my chuckle with a cough before bringing my attention back to the two instructors. Four was looking anywhere except at Eric, glaring at Edward and Myra as they continued to whisper back and forth. The pair finally realized they were the only ones talking and the room went to total silence.

"Today is a day of traditions," Eric started, pulling one of the shining objects from the case closest to him. The comment struck me as odd, but everyone else seemed to be following along just fine. I furrowed my brow and listened more intently. When Eric's eyes passed over me, I resisted the urge to fidget.

"As you all know, Capture the Flag is one of our faction's oldest and most respected traditions. The team that won - my team," he added, throwing a toothy grin in Four's direction, "- will forever carry the honor of winning with them. Much like the title of first jumper, winning CTF goes a long way towards proving one's place in this faction."

Mentally, I ticked both accomplishments off an imaginary checklist. Regardless of my Divergence, I was genuinely proving that I _belonged_ in Dauntless. Accomplishing both had to have helped boost my rank to make it past the cut-off. I felt the tips of my ears and my cheeks redden as a few heads turned to look at me. Four was one of them and his hostile glare turned even more sour.

Eric twirled the metal blade atop his fingertip, recapturing people's attention. I realized it - along with the others sitting in the slime cases - was a thin knife. "Today's exercise isn't something you can win, but it is still just as important to being Dauntless as any other tradition. Four, would you care to demonstrate, or should I?" Eric asked, raising an eyebrow as he turned his attention back to our instructor.

Everyone's attention mirrored Eric's and heads flicked towards Four. He inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring, but otherwise Four didn't refuse the silver blade that Eric handed him. He stepped over to the now-familiar targets, settling into a comfortable stance.

Quickly, efficiently - scowling the entire while - Four let loose a throw that sent the silver knife into the dead center of the target, quivering in the thick plywood. Someone whistled and I had to give Four a mental bump up in respect. The motion had been impossibly fast with no time spent aiming at all.

The instructor turned back to Eric and the rest of us, crossing his arms tightly as he asked, "Good enough?"

Eric didn't seem phased, a blissful smile still stretched across his face. "Masterfully thrown, as always, but you might want to slow down a touch so the mere mortals can watch your form," he simpered.

Edward snickered and my own mouth twisted into a smirk. Eric's needling was entertaining, provided you weren't on the receiving end. "Ass," Christina growled under her breath and when I glanced at her, she rolled her eyes. Al gave a tiny nod of agreement, though probably only because Eric wasn't paying any attention to us.

"Since you asked _so_ nicely, sure," Four gritted between clenched teeth. He took a handful of knives from the case, clinking them together harshly as he walked from one end of the range to the other. He repeated the throw four more times, explaining the motions in short quips, and the remaining six tosses in complete silence. Each silver blade found its way to the center ring, thudding into the target in a loud _thwack_.

Once he was done showcasing the process, he hovered at the end of the range and tossed the final blade in the air in quick flips. He kept catching it by the handle every time, even without watching. Eric - still clearly enjoying himself - had turned back to the circle of initiates as soon as the last target had been hit. "Now it's your turn. Don't fuck up," he warned. "Take a case and make your dear instructor proud."

I ended up sandwiched between Christina and Peter somehow, the latter sneering at me the whole time as I carefully clicked open my case of knives. I didn't want to end up like Molly, dropping the whole set on the floor in a clatter by Four's feet.

"I don't know why they keep giving you gear, Stiff," Peter crooned as he threw his first blade. "You're just going to have to give it back after you get cut."

As usual, the slur stung, but the weight of it was starting to fade. Peter's insults and jabs were getting to be routine, expected. I was tempted to not even reply, but I couldn't keep my mouth shut. "I'm not going to lose these. You will though if you keep throwing like that," I said.

His whole face turned bright red and his next throw went just as wide as his others, slamming into the concrete below his target with a jarring sound. "Fuck you," Peter snarled, grabbing another knife by the blade. It nicked his thumb and he swore again under his breath. _Served him right_.

I turned my attention to my own target, balancing my first knife in my hand. Rushing wasn't going to help with this challenge, just like with all the other marksmanship skills we'd been working on. I also had no such delusions of being able to match Four's honed ability the first time trying. Instead of jumping straight to chucking knives, I replicated the setup that Four had described, feeling the motion of the knife as I drew back my arm and feigned throwing it.

Watching the others around me was helpful. Christina was doing fairly well; her knives were sticking to the board more times than not. Will's throws were accurate but didn't like to stick. Peter had finally started hitting his target, shiny handles peppered sporadically around the target.

I chewed on my bottom lip and started throwing my knives in earnest. They stuck well enough and I took pride in that. Before I had gone through my whole case Four was calling for anyone with knives left to stop and let everyone get the ones by the targets.

Honestly, I expected Peter to be petty and try to take my pair that hadn't stuck to the target, but I was pleasantly surprised. From the determined expression on his face, he was more focused on the actual task than giving me a hard time. A goddamn miracle. Armed with my full set once more, I waited patiently for the stragglers to get back to the throw line so that I didn't hit anyone.

A few others like Christina and Edward followed suit, waiting patiently for everyone to be safely away from the line of targets. Eric paced along behind our backs, clearly impatient. Finally Myra was safely away from her target and we started back up again. This pattern played out five or six more times - I lost count after a while - until Eric couldn't take it anymore.

"For _fucks_ sake, you don't have to wait three hours between volleys," he snapped. My head whipped so I could see better. Eric was standing between Edward and Christina - Myra's spot. The brunette was still standing by her target, juggling her pile of knives as she leaned down to pick up the last one there.

"Well? _Go_," Eric snarled, throwing a hand in the direction of the targets. His good cheer from earlier seemed to have dissipated over the past hour, leaving behind the usual grouchy Leader.

His outburst startled poor Myra and she dropped her collection with a whimper. I felt bad, but not terribly so. Edward had been helping her grab her knives earlier until a stern look from Four had stopped him. She needed to move quicker and maybe actually _hit _her target instead of letting the blades drop to the ground every time.

Peter was the first to start throwing again, and the sound of his knife sinking deep into the plywood made Myra cringe once more. She sent a pleading glance at her boyfriend and tried to pick up the rest of her knives as fast as her trembling hands could manage. Eric returned to his pacing, his steps quiet on the concrete.

I chewed on my lip and turned back to my target. One throw went a bit wild and only barely stuck in the edge of the target. The next sank beautifully in the ring closest to the bullseye. The third hovered in my hand, ready to go. That is, until Eric strode up next to me.

My hand dropped to my side as I started to greet the Leader. "Hey," I grunted.

I wasn't his target though for once. Instead, he tapped Christina on the shoulder before crossing his arms. "Was I unclear, Candor? Or do your arms not work if you're not talking?" Eric demanded.

I shifted my focus back on my own throwing even as I continued to listen in. My throw wasn't strong enough, and the knife slapped uselessly against the plywood before hitting the ground.

Christina refused to look at him, her gaze locked on the wall in front of her. "I heard you," she replied tersely. "But considering that Myra wasn't back yet, I was waiting for her to be clear before I started throwing again."

Eric was silent, his eyes narrowing. The others' throws slowed down as we all listened in on their conversation. "I didn't say to stop throwing," he yelled, sending a glare down the line. "That includes you as well," he added in a low growl to Christina.

She continued to stare blankly ahead. Myra _finally_ scurried to where her case was sitting and unceremoniously dropped all of her knives in it. Only then did Christina look at Eric, malice simmering in her gaze. "Now that it's _safe_ for Myra, I have no problem throwing deadly weapons at her face," she hissed.

Her arm came back as she prepped her throw. Eric's hand snapped up and grabbed her wrist, her knife skittering across the floor before coming to a rest in the middle of the range. "Were you aiming for her face?" he asked. His voice was low, menacing.

_Thunk_. My knife hit one of the middle rings. Not bad. Not great.

"Of course I wasn't aiming for her _face_," Christina rebutted. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

Eric didn't answer her question, continuing on his crusade instead. "If you're half as competent as you were when you walked in this room, you should be more than capable of hitting the target in front of you instead of the person two feet away from it. Dauntless aren't afraid of shit, least of all hurting one of their own," he snarled.

He let go of her wrist and stormed away. I couldn't see where since he was behind us now, but I could hear the sound of another crate opening. Four sighed from somewhere on the side of the range.

"Don't worry, Myra," Christina murmured to the other girl as she stooped to pick up the knife that Eric made her drop. "I'm not gonna throw shit while you're down there. I'm not an ass."

_Thunk. Thunk._ Two hits in a row, same ring as before. My precision was improving. Now I just had to master accuracy at the same time.

A whistle sounded from behind us, one that I recognized from the other day. Eric had used it to call off Peter from breaking Drew's nose after he'd knocked him unconscious in their fight. "Since dear Christina has apparently decided it's time to stop, everyone stop training," Eric called out in a sing-song voice. "We're all going to stop working and hold hands so we can chant about peace and love."

The knife I'd been about to throw ended up in my pocket as my attention went fully on the angry Leader. I recognized the path that Eric was on. I ought to having been on the receiving end just a few days ago. It probably wasn't going to end well for Christina, though she was more than capable of standing up for herself.

Why she was standing up for Myra, I wasn't certain. Maybe the pair had bonded during the week. Maybe Christina was tired from earlier. Maybe she just didn't like Dauntless traditions.

Whatever her reasons were, it wasn't going to spare her from Eric's wrath. The blonde stood ramrod straight next to the weapons table, his hands behind his back. His expression was uncomfortably neutral. "How does that sound to you, Four?" he asked, casting his gaze on our instructor. "Sound reasonable for initiates to just stop training because someone might get a boo-boo?"

Four's face oozed contempt. "There's no right answer to your question, is there?" he replied dryly.

"Aww, you're learning," Eric crooned. "It's only taken two years." He looked over the group once more before crooking a finger at Christina. "You, come here."

She scoffed, tossing her hair with a twitch of her head, but she still followed instructions. At this point, it would be lethal to her ranking not to. I crossed my arms and kept my face as plain as possible. Freaking out wouldn't help anyone.

Eric pulled one hand from behind his back and revealed a black combat knife, unsheathed and glinting dully along the blade. "It doesn't bode well for a Dauntless to be afraid of hurting one of their potential squadmates. So we're going to break you of that habit. Save you some trouble for later on in training," he said, smirking.

I had to give Christina credit; she didn't react at all to the blade pointing directly at her. In fact, she seemed resolved to not respond at all. She and Eric stared silently at one another for several uncomfortable seconds until Eric spoke again.

"A reward," he offered, flipping the knife in the air to hold the handle out to her. "You can keep it if you prove that you still belong here and not on the streets."

My pulse was pounding as I watched her warily take the blade from him. There had to be some kind of twist. What did she have to do to meet his expectations?

Eric pulled out an identical knife from behind his back in his other hand. "Four, do you want me to teach her how to vanquish her fear or do you?" he asked. His smile was positively predatory, wicked and sharp as the blade in his hand.

_What on Earth was going on?_

The blade was out of Eric's hand almost as quickly as it had appeared, finding its way in Four's palm. "I've already started showing them knife work. Might as well continue," Four said, sounding utterly disgusted with the prospect.

It occurred to me that despite Four being our instructor, he had very little desire to implement any of Eric's training methods. I vaguely wondered if this was Four's first time teaching initiates and that was the reason for the apparent disconnect. It would make sense, maybe even more so than just the pair being rivals.

Whatever the reason, Four looked positively livid at being told how to run his lessons. He pointed the knife blade at Christina and flicked it in the direction of the fighting ring. "Up in the ring," Four ordered.

We all shuffled behind Christina, some with more eagerness than others. Myra had gone completely white and Edward was whispering quiet, soothing words to her. _She wasn't going to survive the rest of initiation._

She wasn't the only one looking pale. I clasped Will on his shoulder and squeezed, unsure what else to do or say. He barely seemed to register it, his attention locked on Four - massive, expert knife-wielding Four - standing in the fighting ring with Christina.

Eric rocked back and forth on his heels, rubbing his hands together. "Rules are just as simple in a regular fight. Fight to first blood," he explained with unsettling cheerfulness.

"Just try to nick me," Four suggested as he rolled his shoulders to limber up. "It's the easiest way to draw blood without putting yourself in too much danger."

Christina scowled, clearly not taking the half-hearted advice too kindly. "Like I'm even going to have a chance with these odds," she hissed.

Four shrugged and opened his mouth to speak, but didn't have the chance. He had to dodge Christina's first wide slash at his torso. She swiped at open air and had to then make her own quick maneuver as Four moved to jab at her exposed arm.

From then it was a flurry of swipes and frantic dodges as Four advanced on the smaller girl, his face twisted in a determined scowl. He nearly got her on the shoulder, but she was quick enough to drop onto her knees to avoid the blow. From her position on the floor she lunged to strike at his legs only to receive a boot to the face.

A cry escaped her lips and Will very nearly threw himself at the fighting ring, restrained only by Al's hand around his bicep. "Don't, man," the taller boy whispered. "She's got to do this on her own."

My own heart was pounding a staccato rhythm as I watched Christina roll away from another kick. She was clutching her face, cradling her nose as tears streamed down her cheeks. Four had multiple years of Dauntless training behind his blows; that kick might have broken her nose right then and there.

She wasn't dissuaded though and found herself on her feet after a few moments. Her stance was more hunched than before, but she was standing. Four came at her torso with a swipe just as she had before. She made the same dodge that he had taught us only to meet with his elbow to her gut.

It wasn't a very fair fight. Christina buckled from the force of the blow to her stomach, wheezing. Her own knife was only loosely in her grip, practically dangling from her limp hand. Four stepped away from her, not making his final strike.

"You're still afraid of the weapon," he barked. "Don't."

Christina glared at him even as she gasped for her breath back. "Great. Advice," she panted.

Her renewed attacks were slower than before and more easily blocked by Four. She tried to jab her blade into his ribcage, a direct stab with her wrist firmly locked in place.

Four's hand wrapped around her forearm and forced her hand back to her own chest. "Sheer force isn't going to work on me," he growled. Again, his comments only served to anger her.

"Fuck both of you assholes," Christina snarled, dropping the knife from her grasp into her waiting left hand. Her grip wasn't tight, but it was good enough to let her drag the blade across the length of his forearm.

My hand flew up to my mouth when I realized that I had let out a whoop of joy. She'd gotten him! Christina had _actually _beaten Four at his own specialty.

Four sighed and shook his head, undeterred. He shoved her back and flicked his own knife across her collarbone. A red arc appeared, following the curve of her collar perfectly. "Nice try with the hand switching, but make sure you're actually strong enough to make the cut before you assume you've won," he sneered.

He held up his forearm, showing the pink line of irritated skin. No blood made it through the scratch.

My cheers died in my throat. Just like that, everything had gone topsy turvy. Christina's face was frozen in utter shock, her mouth hanging open.

The blade in her hand fell to the mat, a soft plop on the powdered surface. "That's not… oh come on!" Words finally escaped her lips. "I hit you first!"

Eric stepped into the ring and glanced at Four's arm, raising a single eyebrow. "That wasn't the challenge though, Candor," he sneered. "The fight was to first blood, not first blow. Even if it had been, you _still_ would have lost."

He poked her between the eyes hard enough that her eyes started watering again from the pain. "He broke your nose within seconds of the fight starting. _Seconds_," he emphasized. "And you could barely scratch him."

Christina let out a whimper - most likely from her broken nose - and crumpled to the mat. "It's not fair," she cried out. "There was no way I could win that fight."

Four actually spoke, shrugging one shoulder. "If you're fighting someone else who's more experience than you are, are you just going to fall down and cry?"

"Life's not fair, sweetheart," Eric drawled. He leaned down next to her and I thought for a moment that he was going to help her up off the mat. "That's something you're just going to have to get over. _Soon_." When he stood back up, her knife was back in his hand and Christina was still on the ground, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees.

He exited the fighting ring without another word, retreating to the weapons cases. Four stared blankly at his back, seeming entirely lost. After a second his normal gruff expression took over, wiping away the traces of uncertainty that had been there. "That's it for today," he declared. "Pack up your gear and get out."

At that, the group scattered into our usual cliques. Will, Al, and I were all scrambling to get up on the mat to Christina's side while the rest dispersed to pack up their knives. I knelt next to my literal only female friend and struggled to figure out exactly what to say or do.

Caleb would have known what to do. He would have had a cloth for the slow-bleeding wound at her neck or a kind word about how things would be better later. He had the gift, or at least pretended damn well.

I just rested a hand on Christina's shoulder and chewed on my lip. "You okay?" Will asked quickly, eyeing the cut on her chest. He was probably already making a plan about the best way to treat the thing to keep it from getting infected.

Her head slowly shook back and forth as Christina continued to stare directly ahead. "I _hate_ him," she whispered, venom dripping in her words.

Al shuffled nervously on the mat, looking everywhere except at her. "Who? Four?" he asked in a shaky voice.

"Eric." She spat the name out. Her hands on her knees clenched into tight fists, shockingly pale compared to her tan skin. "I fucking hate him."

I swallowed, feeling even more lost than before. I certainly didn't _enjoy_ Eric's methods of training. Terrifying anyone who isn't keeping up with the program wasn't the best plan in my opinion. Then again, something had to be done to nudge - or shove - people who fell behind.

While Christina hadn't fallen behind on her knife throwing, she had stood up for someone who was clearly not making the cut. She'd made herself a target by standing up for Myra just as I'd made myself a target for sticking up for Al.

So why did I feel so conflicted? It was basically the same scenario, wasn't it?

My attention flicked to the blonde-haired Leader carefully wiping down knives. Did I really know enough about the efficacy of his training methods to be feeling this way? I _should _want to stick up for Christina after she was forced to fight the massively overqualified Four.

Except there was a not-so-tiny part of me that said that she'd still learned something from this, regardless of how traumatic it was.

I missed whatever vaguely calming thing that Will said and realized after a moment that he was helping her to stand up. I quickly scrambled to my feet and wiped my dusty hands on my pants. "Tomorrow'll be better," I mumbled, hating how ridiculous and pointless it sounded even to me.

Christina scoffed, saying nothing else. Will seemed to have a better handle on walking her back to her abandoned knife set, so I focused on packing up my own things without talking again. It probably was better that I didn't say anything. Everyone was pissed at Eric - save for Drew, Molly, or Peter - and I didn't relish in the idea of having that anger directed at me.

I collected all my thrown knives and packed them away with the ones still by my spot in the throwing line. One slot in the case was still empty and I frowning, trying to figure out where the missing blade had gone. A glance up and down the row showed that everyone was already done packing or were essentially finished, leaving no spare knives hanging around.

Searching by the targets again yielded nothing as well and only served to make me the last person shuffling around on my hands and knees like an idiot. Obscenities hovered on the tip of my tongue as I started to theorize just which one of the wonder trio had decided to steal my shit. It was Peter, most likely. He was the one closest to me with the greatest chance to take one while I wasn't looking.

"Lose something?" Eric called from behind me.

My head flipped up and I sighed. "One of my knives. Can't find it," I replied simply.

He nodded twice and slowly meandered over to where I was currently searching, his hands tucked into his pockets. I didn't get it. His moods were all over the place; he had gone from irritated to cocky to furious all in the span of a few hours.

"You mean the knife that's threatening to cut through your pocket if you lean over any farther?" he asked cheerfully.

My hand flew to my pockets and sure enough there was the knife that I'd shoved away ages ago. A flush crept over my face and I fought to keep my composure. "Uhm, yeah. That's the one," I said quickly.

Standing up, I fished it from my pocket and cursed myself for not realizing. Eric was amused, his mouth cocked in a smirk. "You know, there are easier ways to talk to me than faking a missing knife. Your friends might hate me, but you could get a better excuse to stay behind than this," he teased, his voice low.

I brushed past him, rolling my eyes. It was easier once I wasn't looking at him. "That's _not_ what's happening," I insisted. The final knife went into its place in the, case and I closed the container with a dull snap. "I couldn't find my knife. I'm not skulking around trying to talk to the guy who almost got my best friend stabbed in the chest."

He only seemed to be further amused by my comments rather than upset. At this point we were once again the only ones in the training room. I'd lost count of how many times it had been by now. Half a dozen? More? This time hadn't even been on purpose.

Internally I cursed myself. I shouldn't ever be intentionally getting alone with Eric. He was a Leader, literally one of the most important people in the faction. I was still an initiate and apparently a troublemaking one. Still, he didn't seem to hate being alone with me and I couldn't bring myself to, either.

I walked my new case to the lockers and set about putting it away in my gear locker. Once it was carefully wedged under the butt of my sniper rifle I closed the door and spun the lock a few times for good measure.

"Your friend put herself in that situation," Eric said quietly, standing in the center of the training room. He was about halfway between the door and the targets, looking down at his feet. When I didn't reply, he looked up and stared me down. "Yes, I made the order for her to fight Four and of _course_ he's far more experienced than she is, but no one can be coddled and expect to become a real Dauntless."

My arms crossed over my chest and I felt a twinge of returning frustration. "So you wanted Four to smack her around a bit to remember that you've got to be tough to fit in," I retorted. "Mission accomplished."

"You're not an idiot, Tris," Eric growled. "You know as well as I do that that wasn't the point of that demonstration."

Now it was my turn to look down at my boots. "If you're going to defend someone, you need to be able to back it up all the way," I growled, hating myself for saying it. "Which means giving it your all, even if that means you're stabbing someone you know and trust."

Soft footfalls padded over to me. I didn't want to look up from my feet. They were immensely interesting, you see.

"Hey, Prior. Chin up."

I exhaled and slowly brought my face up to meet his gaze.

"You might still hate my methods and I know for sure your little Candor friend hates me personally, but you bet your ass that she's not going to forget that fight today. Not for a long while," Eric insisted. With his grey eyes just inches from mine and his confident smirk, I would have believed that the sky was green if he said it.

I could only bob my head in a slight nod and squeak out a tiny "yeah."

Eric's hand came up and tapped me under the chin. "Chin up," he repeated. "Keep using your head and you'll be fine."

Some time later when I was laying on my bunk trying to forget about today's madness, it occurred to me that Eric was worrying about what I was feeling. He'd actually taken some kind of measure to make sure that I wasn't feeling totally overwhelmed.

I didn't want to think about what that meant. Things were confusing enough as it was that I couldn't bring myself to start pulling at that thread. I pulled my blankets over my head, shut out Al's soft sniffling, and forced myself to sleep.

**A/N: Casual reminder that my blog has switched from feckyeslife to feckyeswriting on tumblr. Follow it for updates on my writing schedule or funny posts about writing in general!**

**Also, reviews are amazing and make everyone's day better ;)**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:So this chapter doesn't quite follow canon in terms of the main plot timeline. I've pushed Visiting Day off for the weekend **_**after**_** Phase One is over. This is partially a goof on my side and partially because I just wrote an 11k oneshot about Visiting Day and I don't want to just re-hash that again.**

The next few days were surprisingly tame. Four ruled training with an iron fist, keeping everyone in line with a few short words or a sharp glare. Eric wasn't around, much to Christina's joy. She refused to shut up about it, going on about how much smoother training was without that "egotistical jackass lurking around."

I couldn't say I agreed. Training was _different_, but I'm not sure if it was comparable to our normal routine. Four focused training on Dauntless protocols and procedures as well as physical attributes other than marksmanship. We ran the city twice on one day and once more the next. I was thankful for my morning jogging, even if Eric didn't show up for said running the entire week.

I tried not to be disappointed and instead focused on getting my stamina up to do thirty laps at the same steady speed. When he did come back, he'd have to actually try to out-run me.

His absence became the norm so much so that when we started our final day of training it was startling to see him standing right up next to Four. The blonde didn't say much and just nodded along with what Four was saying about the wrap-up of training.

Al spent the morning in a shocked silence. He wasn't ready to be judged. Before the night was over, Four, Lauren, and Eric would decide who would stay and who would go from the bravest faction. Without even seeing the Dauntless-born, my bet was solidly on Myra failing out. Al might have been able to cling on to hope if three of the training group were even worse than he was. _Might _was the key word.

Lunch was subdued, a quick twenty minute affair with strict orders from Four to return on time or not at all. The threat had been dull for the past week, but on today it actually held some weight. It was our last day to prove that we had the physical skills to remain in Dauntless.

"Let's go," Will said urgently, his eyes on Al's digital watch. We'd just barely finished eating lunch - grilled chicken sandwiches today - and time had ticked down to five whole minutes left. Our group of four ended up being the first to arrive back in the training room and Four nodded to us appreciatively.

He didn't want us ignoring his threat on a day when Eric was watching, or at least that was my suspicion. "Don't bother getting anything from your lockers," he called out as Christina moved to unlock hers. "You're not going to need them for the rest of today."

That ruled out any final assessment in target practice. I hoped my previous efforts were good enough. It wasn't like there was much I could do now to improve them. Will bemoaned the lack of a clear syllabus of expectations and I agreed. We hovered still by the lockers, talking about nothing at all. Not everyone had arrived yet despite just under a minute remaining in Four's time limit.

"Alright, while we're waiting for the last stragglers, why don't we get started on final fights?" Eric called out. The room fell to a total silence, Drew stopping mid-sentence as our fearless leader stood impatiently by the fighting mat.

There were still an odd number of us in our training group, I noted. Someone was either not going to get to fight or perhaps worse have to fight one of our instructors. I sent a prayer to whoever was listening that it wasn't myself or Christina, especially if we'd have to fight Four. I don't think she'd be able to handle facing our instructor again, not while she still bore the thin white scar around her neck.

Four nodded in apparent agreement with Eric. Maybe they'd finally gotten in sync over the "proper" way to teach initiates. "I've got a roster set up already. Tris," he barked, "you were going to go first, but since your sparring partner is taking her sweet time, you get to go last. Use that to your advantage."

I nodded tightly and started to mentally prepare myself. The only other girl not present yet was Molly; Edward and Myra had scurried in just as Four had started talking. I wanted to be ready to take down the stocky girl this time. I had a bone to pick with her after the last fight.

Eric snorted and shook his head. Alright, so their alliance wasn't quite as solid as it seemed. "Prior's already fought her. Give her a different partner," he ordered. I chewed on my lip and tried to not look too disappointed. I wasn't going to get a chance to exact my revenge in an entirely fair fist fight.

"Christina, you haven't fought Prior yet, right?" Eric asked, his attention snapping to the girl next to me. She tensed visibly, her forehead furrowing in a furious glare. There was no doubt in my mind that she absolutely _despised_ Eric now.

My friend didn't even speak, shaking her head sharply in response. Eric smiled, shark-like in his glee. "Perfect. You're about even in the ranks with Molly. Both of you, get in the ring."

Will patted Christina on the back and whispered something encouraging to her. I just pushed myself to move into the fighting ring without faltering. I didn't _want_ to fight Christina just as much as I hadn't wanted to fight Al. But as Four had been driving mercilessly into our skulls, Dauntless operated on order and chain of command. Orders were orders, even in a training situation.

I kicked off my boots and placed them carefully on the ground next to the mat while I waited for Christina to get up here. "Same rules as usual?" I asked, looking at Four for the answer. He nodded tightly. I hadn't expected anything less of the last fight.

Christina finally hopped onto the mat, reluctance and frustration coloring her expression. She raised her fists and stood completely still. I feigned a quick jab to the right and she barely even flinched.

"Who do you want to win?" she murmured, her mouth barely moving. I started. What the hell was she on about? Who did I want to win? The best fighter, obviously. Christina shuffled towards me and threw a weak punch. It didn't hurt in the slightest.

I returned with a low kick to her shins. It was painfully obvious what I was going to do and she didn't even try to dodge. "Shit!" she exclaimed. "If you want to win, that's fine," Christina hissed under her breath. "Just try not to bruise every last part of me."

"If you don't fight back, neither of us are going to get a good score. Don't just roll over and die" I replied harshly. I didn't care who heard what I had to say - I meant it. This wasn't gym glass in mid levels. This was _initiation_. "And I couldn't care less if you hurt me. Bring it on."

Maybe I did have a death wish.

Christina's eyes narrowed and she sank further into her haunches. I stepped forward and rammed my shoulder into her torso, my free arm slamming into her stomach. She cried out and folded. I mistook the motion as giving up and didn't adjust my position. Seconds later, Christina rolled over my back and landed on her hands and toes behind me.

Her foot lashed out to take out the back of my knee, forcing me to let her push me down on that knee. With both of us on the floor, neither one of us had an advantage. Cristina stayed low, launching herself to try and tackle me further to the floor. It was a move that Lauren had come in to show us earlier in the week, though we hadn't actually had a fight since then to try it out.

An elbow slammed into my face, dazing me. Without seeing properly, I slammed my knee into some part of Christina. I'd meant to throw her entirely over my head, but my timing was off and the move didn't have quite the desired effect. She slumped off of me, crying out in pain. Still, the fight wasn't won yet and I had to keep moving. I rolled to my side and sprang to my feet with a push of my hand. Christina was still down, her face contorted as she clutched her stomach. Incoherent swearing filled the air.

"That it?" I asked, half to Christina and half to my instructor outside of the ring. Four didn't say anything and neither did Eric, surprisingly. Christina shook her head and painfully crawled back to a standing position.

Her stance was weak, I noted, and she was favoring her right side. I must have really done a number on her with my knee. She was still fighting, though, and we threw ourselves at each other after a moment spent sizing each other up. I didn't go straight for her wounded side in case it was a feint. Instead, I focused on absorbing her rapid-fire jabs before seizing the chance to get one solid uppercut to her chin.

It staggered Christina, sending her backwards with a pinwheel of limbs. I wasn't done yet, following up with a kick to her injured side; the grunt from her was too believable to be faked, so the pain must have been pretty bad. Still, she pulled her fists back up into a rough approximation of a guard before lashing out with one of Lauren's kickboxing strikes.

I was ready for it, moving just enough that when Christina hit, all her momentum was lost and she lurched forward from the shift in balance. That was all I needed to push off from the mat with a jump and a shout, my resulting punch strengthened by the force of gravity and pure determination.

Her skull cracked against the bones in my knuckles. Christina crumpled to the ground like a puppet with her strings cut. My stomach twisted even as I felt the familiar surge in pride for a fight fairly won. I fell to my knees and twisted her chin to check that she was okay. A welt was welling up already on her cheekbone, but otherwise Christina was breathing just fine.

Will appeared at my shoulder, worry creasing his brow. "She's gonna be fine," I said quickly. I didn't like the guilt that was settling in my gut. It fluttered around miserably, threatening to evict my lunch.

He hauled Christina to her feet, murmuring quietly that she was all right. Her eyelids fluttered and her toes glided over rather than touched the ground, but she was conscious. I followed behind the pair, stopping to grab my boots from their spot by the mat. I could have sworn I saw Eric wink, but by the time I looked up again, he was elbowing Four to get the next pair up to fight.

The flutter in my chest didn't help my stomach situation.

I spent the rest of the fights sitting on the ground next to Christina, silently watching. She didn't say much to me, rooting quietly for Will and Al when their turns came up. The fights passed by in a blur as I rubbed at my bruising forearms.

Will, Peter, and Edward all got to walk off the mats under their own power while Molly, Al, and Drew got helped off by their friends. Myra "lucked out" and didn't have to fight anyone. She wasn't even given the _option _to fight one of the winners.

And that was it. Physical training was officially over.

* * *

Nervous energy took over the initiates. We were in a holding pattern, knowing that ranks were being determined as we sat impatiently. Someone suggested getting dinner - Al, I think - and like a swarm of lemmings we made our way to the cafeteria. Transfers and Dauntless-born alike clustered in a corner of the crowded hall, more focused on watching for our trainers than on the food in front of us.

I think I took about two bites of my miso soup. Thankfully it was bland enough from the tofu and mushrooms. Anything more would upset the already tenuous balance in my stomach.

"They _are _going to announce ranks tonight, right?" Will asked fervently. One of the Dauntless-born replied in a rather rude fashion, but the answer was still clear: absolutely. We wouldn't know who was getting cut until the next day when the instructors decided the overall ranks, but we would still know who in each group was the best. Anyone not in the bottom four ranks was _guaranteed _to be safe. The pressure was on to be top five in the transfers.

Peter was absolutely certain that he was going to be number one, with Edward and Drew trailing behind him. There was almost a fist-fight when he refused to consider Molly in the running for top three. The stocky girl might not have looked it, but even I had to admit that she had stepped up to the plate and performed fairly well all initiation.

I tried to start up a conversation with Christina about our chances of being top five, but she became rather fascinated with a story Marlene was telling. I knew when I was being blown off. It should have been expected, what with the size of the shiner that had welled up on her cheek, but it still stung to be totally ignored.

Like a good little Abnegation girl, I said nothing and proceeded to listen to the rest of my friends and colleges while away the rest of the hour. I occupied myself with playing with the cubes of tofu in my soup, scooping them out to build a tower on the table in front of me. My appetite wasn't returning any time soon.

"Transfers! With me," Four summoned from the entryway of the cafeteria. I had totally missed him appearing there, preoccupied with my pity-party and tofu sculpture. I had to scurry to dump the cubes back into my soup and get to the dish return window in time to still catch up with the rest of the transfers. Al hung back and I gave him an appreciative head bob.

We had to jog to meet up with the rest of the transfers, trailing behind as Four led us back to the dorms. I guess they wanted some level of privacy to tell us our ranks. It didn't matter much to the rest of the faction who was failing or succeeding in initiation. Whoever ended up making it through mattered, no one else.

Four stood by the front of the room, a clipboard tucked firmly under his elbow. The room trembled with nervous energy. Al's hand wormed its way into mine, squeezing tightly. I didn't look at him, focused solely on our instructor in front of us.

What if I was in the bottom?

The tension in the room reached its all-time high as Four looked us over. His silence was agony. Finally he pulled out the clipboard and read it over without speaking.

"After carefully considering every facet of your training, Lauren, Eric, and myself have decided final rankings for phase one of training," he said in a matter of fact tone. "These ranks are not subject for debate. If you don't like it, tough shit. Fix it in phase two - if you make it that far, that is."

Al's palms were sweaty. His hand in mine was slick, clammy.

"Tomorrow the lowest four overall will leave Dauntless. Again, not subject to debate." It was exactly as I'd feared; the only ones safe were in the top five. If all the Dauntless-born were better than our bottom four, they'd all be out.

Four cleared his throat and started to read from the clipboard. "From lowest to high, transfers ranked as follows: Myra, Al," - his hand reached critical sweatiness - "Drew, Christina, Molly, Tris, Will, Peter, Edward."

Near-chaos erupted as Peter started swearing and Christina shouted furiously. "That's outrageous! I _do not _deserve to be in the bottom four!" she roared. "Total bullshit!"

Four raised a single eyebrow but otherwise didn't engage. He turned on his heel and left the dorms, the clipboard back under his arm. Peter dogged his footsteps, not taking Four's no-debate rule as acceptable. I heard him ranting about how much stronger he was than everyone all the way down the hall.

Al still clung to my hand. "I'm going to get cut," he moaned. "That's it. I'm going to be factionless."

I shook my head fervently and tugged him over to our bunks. "Stop, just stop," I hissed quietly. "Yes, you ranked eight out of nine. But Four said that they've still got to compare us to the Dauntless-born. Three of them might be worse than you." It wasn't _likely_, but it was technically possible.

The tall boy's shoulders heaved. He was on the verge of a breakdown, even more so than usual. My free hand gripped his chin and I forced him to look at me. From somewhere deep, deep within me, I dredged up some compassion for the boy who never stopped crying. "Say it out loud. 'I am not getting cut.'"

Al inhaled sharply. "I am not getting cut," he whispered. I gave him a pointed look. He repeated it louder. "I am not getting cut."

"I almost believe you - _louder_," I insisted. I started, realizing that I was mimicking a technique my brother had taught me back in Abnegation. One of my classes in Lower Levels had required us to do a presentation at the end of a project. I had spent the whole night before worrying about it, hardly sleeping. Caleb came in and sat next to me, listening to me babble about how I was going to fail and "never ever pass Pre-Faction History".

He'd taken my hand and told me to keep telling myself that I was going to be fine, that I could go up in front of the class and do my report. Caleb had me repeat "I am going to pass" over and over until I fell asleep. The next day I got up and gave a terrible report - confidence wasn't going to help the fact that I chose to play tag instead of read at the library - with a giant smile on my face. The teacher gave me a C and I did Caleb's chores for the rest of the month in gratitude.

I was jarred back to the present by Al letting go of my hand. "Thanks, Tris," he said. Relief replaced the terror in his expression.

"Don't mention it," I grumbled, flushing. I deliberately turned to look at our other friends. Will looked conflicted, apparently happy to have made it into the top five ranks even as he tried to console the still-irate Christina.

I heard her shout more about how unfair it was to not disclose rankings until the last day and how ridiculous it was to put so much weight on fights. It dawned on me that because I'd won, I probably was the one to knock her rank below Molly.

Guilt once again pooled in my gut.

Al grimaced next to me, his gaze matching mine. "She's not taking it well," he remarked. "I would kill to have gotten her rank."

I could only bite my tongue.

"Hey, are you going with us tonight?" Al asked. His entire attitude had done a one-eighty and I was reeling to keep up.

"What are you talking about?" I asked. "I didn't know there was a specific plan besides just, you know, hanging out like usual."

The tall boy shook his head. "Some of the Dauntless-born are having a get together in their training room. Said they wanted to actually meet us now that we're not training separately."

"That… could be fun," I replied warily. Other than the Uriah - who I had really only spoken with once - I didn't know _any _of the Dauntless-born. I could name a few and only because Christina kept a ranked list of "cute boys."

Al nodded fervently. "There's gonna be beer. You've got to come."

"Then I guess I'm going." I hoped the beer was worth it.

* * *

Half an hour later and we'd assembled in a gymnasium I'd never been in. It was set up pretty much the same as our training room, with the only differences being the paint on the lockers and the initials carved into the benches.

We sat around the lockers, still clustered in groups of Dauntless-born and transfers. Al and I had been the last to come in; Will and Christina had beaten us there, having left the dorm minutes after Al told me about the party. If I hadn't been so focused on avoiding Christina's death glares, I might have realized that Al and I had been unofficially dropped from their good graces.

Good for them. It wasn't my fault that Christina went into her last fight not wanting to win.

Uriah pulled a box of clinking glass bottles from his locker, placing them on a bench with a huff. "They're not cold, but they'll do," he said cheerfully. "We've got this box and another in Lynn's locker, so plan accordingly."

Lynn grimaced. "Half a box. Sorry," she corrected. "Cal grabbed a few the other day while I was running drills with Marlene." I'd been surprised to realize she was a girl at first; her hair was completely shaved to barely half an inch long all over her head. I made a mental note not to assume anything about anyone's gender from appearance alone.

Uriah cursed and quickly counted up the beers again. He squinted at the group and mouthed along as he ran the numbers. "Everyone gets three, no, _two_ each. I'm taking a third since I got them. So can Lynn. That leaves two to fight over," he summarized quickly.

I didn't argue. Someone passed me a bottle and I struggled with the cap. Marlene popped hers open on the bench in front of her and I quickly mimicked the method. It started fizzing and I yelped.

"Don't waste it, Stiff!" Lynn snapped. I stopped trying to stem the overflowing drink with my hand and took a few long drafts. It didn't burn too much; the oat flavor cut most of the burn from the alcohol. I wiped the foam from my mouth and made a face. The after-taste was horrid.

My bottle was already a third empty. "I want reverse-dibs on my third drink," I announced. "This is awful."

Uriah laughed, a booming sound. "You'll get used to the taste. It's mostly for the game anyway," he chuckled.

"Game?" Al asked. He'd wrenched his bottle open with his hand, saving himself from spilling any all over himself. For once Al wasn't the biggest idiot in the room. I currently bore that crown.

"We're playing _Faction_," Marlene explained. She had shoulder length blonde hair, curly and absolutely stunning. My own tresses felt inadequate all of a sudden. "The rules are simple. We go in a circle and ask anyone to name a faction. Whatever they name, they have to follow whatever the asker tells them. If they don't, they drink. Then the ask-ee gets to ask someone else."

"Each faction has its own rules. They're super self explanatory," Lynn interjected. "You'll figure it out easy."

Will's head bobbed. "I've played before," Al said cheerfully. "After school with my brother's friends." Christina nodded as well, leaving me staring blankly at our new friends.

Oh well. What else was new? "Wow, surprise, surprise," I said with a weak laugh. "Us Stiffs have no concept of fun. I'll have to watch for a few rounds."

Uriah pointed at me with his beer bottle. "You get two rounds and that's it. Then you're in like the rest of us. That's just 'cause I don't feel like explaining every little rule," he said. I didn't have much of a choice, so I nodded.

He started us off, calling out Christina right away. "Name your faction," he said, leaning against the lockers behind him. We were still all standing, awkward and uncomfortable with the other group.

"Dauntless," she asserted quickly.

Uriah smirked, cool and collected. "Climb up the lockers and play your next round up there," he challenged. I paid careful attention, trying to follow their exchange so I'd get the nuances of each faction.

She passed her drink to Will and quickly hopped onto the wooden bench. From there, it was only a jump from there to hang on the top edge of the lockers and a flex of her arms to get up on top. "Piece of cake!" Christina crowed, reaching down to get her beer. "I'll still take a drink, too," she added smugly.

From her position atop the lockers, Christina pointed to Lynn. "Faction, baldie?"

"Candor," she replied in a sickly-sweet voice. "Figured you must know some good questions, blabbermouth."

Both girls were smiling as they bantered back and forth. Bonding was weird, but I was glad that we were getting along with our initiation counterparts. I shuddered to think how things would go if we had been playing with Peter or Molly.

"How far have you gone with a guy?"

"I've knocked a few of them into next week," Lynn replied smoothly. "None have caught my eye enough to let them get any more handsy."

Christina arched an eyebrow. "So you've never-" she started to ask.

Marlene cut her off. "One question, one answer," the blonde insisted in a sing-song voice. "Let Lynn pick her victim."

"Stiff, since you're officially back in, I pick you. What faction would you like?" Lynn asked. She slipped to the floor, resting her back on the lockers and crossing her legs in front of her. People were getting more comfortable, relaxing as we started to get to know each other.

I thought for a moment. Each question or answer was coded to the basic tenets of the factions, that was obvious. I didn't feel like doing a dare and embarrassing myself in front of my new friends, so I decided to go with one of the other more tame factions. "Erudite?" I replied. "Mostly because I'm curious what the rules are for that one."

"No taking it back, Tris," Uriah commanded once again. It was his party; I respected him for running the game, too.

Lynn looked up at me, her dark eyes intent. "Erudite means you have to say something that's true that no one else in the room knows. If someone knows it, they have to speak up, too," she added, glaring around the circle. "Otherwise they have to drink, too."

"Cool," I said. "So I can say that I have never owned a pet and that counts?"

She nodded. "Yep. Oh! And if someone knows you're lying, you've got to drink, too."

Basically anything that wasn't answering the questions or honoring the dares led to drinking. I suddenly understood why I'd never played the game before. Drinking was completely taboo in Abnegation. The warm fuzzy feeling slowly growing in my chest protested.

"Well, that's true - never had a pet," I repeated. "Now I pick Al."

He picked Candor and I asked him if he ever kissed someone before. His ears got real red as he drank.

Al picked Marlene and the game continued. I pieced together the last two factions: Amity and Abnegation were similar where you had to do a favor, but the subject was either your enemy if you picked Amity or the asker if you picked Abnegation. Will ended up agreeing to do all of Marlene's laundry next time she needed it whereas Lynn was sworn to give one of her estranged cousins a hug on Visiting Day.

Marlene called me out and I discovered another twist of the game - you couldn't repeat a faction you'd already picked. I went for Abnegation and she pawned off cleaning her gear on me.

"Since we're already here, might as well get started," she giggled, unlocking her locker after a few tries. She was on her second drink entirely by choice, her first bottle carefully nestled in the box to go back to resource reclamation.

I watched the next couple rounds from my new spot on the floor, toiling away on Marlene's pistol. Christina stayed on her perch, making Will hand her a new bottle when she drained hers instead of doing a favor for her enemy. Thinking of how much she hated Eric, I didn't blame her for being told to "get him or her a coffee every morning."

"They're always up before dawn anyway," she growled before dumping the rest of her drink down her throat. I didn't get how she could just chug it. The flavor was starting to numb on my tongue, but even still there was no way I was going to suck down half off a bottle of beer without coughing.

Christina had Al give her a back massage - she ventured down from the lockers to lay on the bench instead - and he in turn called on me. Feeling a bit more bold, I answered with Dauntless. I only had that or Candor left, having said Amity a few rounds back to catch up with everyone else and drink more of my beer.

Al shuffled his feet and took his sweet time thinking of his dare. I was mostly focused on re-assembling Marlene's pistol rather than paying super close attention to him. My face was flushed and I was enjoying the nice buzz that the alcohol was giving me.

That came crashing down when Al dared me to kiss him.

"Sorry, what?" I asked, vying for more time. "Is that… can you dare someone that way?"

"It's totally fair," he grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

Lynn cackled. "That's great. Kids gonna get his first kiss on a dare." I didn't share in her sentiment. It wasn't funny to _me_ to be dared to kiss someone I had literally no attraction with.

I lifted my beer and shakily brought it to my lips. "I'll take the bottle, no hard feelings," I whispered. I couldn't help it; it was as loud as I could summon my voice to be.

He looked away sharply and quickly followed suit, taking a long draught. "Never mind," he scowled. "Should have known."

Christina, back on her perch above the rest of us, scoffed. "Of course you should have. Why would Ms. Better Than-"

We wouldn't know how Christina was going to end that sentence. The door of the training room was ripped open and Lauren darted in, another Dauntless trailing after her. I didn't recognize him. "Don't panic," Lauren commanded.

It had the opposite effect on our little buzzed group. My heart started jack-hammering at what felt like a thousand beats per minute. "Are you the only ones in here?" she barked, scanning us with laser-focused attention. "Did anyone leave your group?"

Marlene sat up, having draped herself on one of the wooden benches. "Just us seven in here, Laur," she replied quickly. "No one's left. We're just playing _Faction_ with the transfers."

I worried for about half a second that they were going to bust us for drinking. But Lauren only cared about who was in the room, double checking that she knew who was in the room and who wasn't.

"Kyle, stay here with them and for the love of god, don't let them out," she ordered. Sparing no second glances, she jogged out of the training room just as quickly as she'd entered.

Kyle licked his lips and surveyed our group. Christina hopped down from the lockers and we all stared at the newcomer. He didn't look all that tough, being tall and reedy rather than stocky like Al or even Four. Hell, his ears stuck out through curly, shoulder-length hair.

"I'm Kyle, for those who don't know me," he said, his voice almost wary. "You might know me if you've been up to Leadership before."

I literally could not care less where he worked. I wanted to know what was going on. "What happened?" Christina barked.

"What's Lauren freaking out about?" Lynn asked, speaking up over Uriah's quiet swearing. He was still trying to gather up the beer bottles to hide the box back in his locker.

The clinking of bottles carried through the quiet gym as Kyle visibly hemmed over whether he'd answer. I totally ignored the mostly-together firearm in my hands, entirely focused on the Dauntless practically sweating bullets in front of us. "One of the transfers got stabbed," he finally admitted. "The, ah, number one kid. Edwin."

"Edward," Will corrected him instantly. Even Uriah stopped his frantic motions. It didn't seem possible. Someone attacked one of our own? Who would hurt an initiate?

I broke the fresh silence. "Is he okay? Did… Were they trying to kill him?"

Kyle shook his head. "We don't know what they were aiming to do, but he's been blinded in one eye. He was brought to the infirmary when one of the patrols heard screaming," he answered.

Bile rose in my throat. Edward had been number one, the best of our group. I never saw him lose a single fight ever. "I have to ask you guys again, did any of you leave this gym?"

I shook my head mutely, my eyes closed as I fought to keep my beer from making a repeat appearance. Christina took over as the group's spokesperson, telling Kyle exactly how long we'd all been in here and how no one had left even to go to the bathroom.

Once he was done asking us questions, the room fell back into an uneasy quiet. Marlene took her pistol back and I fidgeted with a loose screw I found on the floor. Will asked Kyle a few questions every once in a while about how this would affect initiation, but the man had no real answers to give. Apparently he just had his orders to watch us - both keeping us safe and being ready to take us down with the high powered taser on his belt - and that was all he knew.

We waited the whole night in that gymnasium.

Lauren came to collect her initiates at around five thirty. Christina, Will, Al, and I still had to sit by the lockers while Kyle stared glassy-eyed at the ceiling. Four didn't show up until well past eight.

He came into the doorway and waved for us to come over. Will was bubbling with questions, but a look from Four shut him up. "Edward's fine. Blind in one eye, but fine," our instructor wearily told us. "He's been given a clean bill of health from the doctors at the hospital provided he doesn't develop any infection. But he's dropping out, giving up on initiation."

My mind was reeling from not enough sleep and too much excitement. Just like that, Edward was factionless. "I already told the rest of the transfers - Myra, Cal, and Glynn all ranked in the bottom three. The rest of you are staying."

"Congratulations. You've officially made it to phase two," Four said, the words hanging bitterly in the air.

**Just as a general comment about, well, commenting - I've written multiple thousands of words, it would really be swell for the comments / reviews that I get to be just a few sentences where something more than just "please update!" Even just say what you liked and what you didn't, I'd REALLY appreciate it. (non-native readers, I totally get the pressure of writing versus reading, so you're all cool)**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: It's been so long. So, so long. If you forgot what happened in the last chapter, don't worry. I did, too, writing certain parts of this. **

**Again, the timeline of these past two chapters is technically flipped from canon with respect to Visiting Day and the end of Phase One. I also didn't expand on certain other parts of VD because of how much was covered in Born and Bred. Feel free to check that out (after finishing up this chapter ;D )**

**Thanks to the darling Meags for checking this for idiotic mistakes from writing at 1AM. **

**Without any further ado, enjoy!**

All the tension and stress following Edward's attack left our remaining group of transfers reeling. Christina even forgot to be passive-aggressive towards me for the whole day. Once Four let us go back to the dorm there was a rush of hushed conversations.

"Where were you guys?"

"How come no-one saw what happened?"

"It must have been an angry factionless worker. Chauntelle in the kitchens said they've been real quiet all week. Said they get real weird during initiations."

I ducked out of view into my bunk and tried my hardest to blend in with my blanket. The theories and accusations didn't interest me. They _terrified _me. Edward should have been the model Dauntless. He was pretty damn respected for all his abilities according to our faction's tenants, even by the Dauntless-born. By all right he should have been untouchable. If he wasn't, where did that leave me?

Will and Al adamantly refused to believe that the factionless were involved, suggesting it was jealousy on the part of one of the leaving Dauntless-born. It made sense but everyone was just as opinionated in their own thoughts.

Particularly Peter was against their theory. He was convinced that no one could possibly be intimidated by "that hack's shitty skills." Both he and Molly were firmly pushing for an investigation into the factionless who worked in the kitchens and sanitation crews in the faction.

My _own _opinion was that regardless of who had attacked him, we all needed to watch out. People continued to talk and I ended up falling asleep. I didn't chose to take a nap so much as I could not keep my eyes open any longer. Even still, I tossed and turned more than actually slept. Christina nudged me awake around noon to see if I wanted lunch. I agreed just so that I wasn't the only one remaining in the dorm.

I had to watch my own back, that was the lesson of last night.

* * *

Night thankfully passed without further incident. Between my nap earlier and the bathroom light being left on, it was practically impossible to fall asleep. The beam of yellow-orange incandescent light stretched between the bunks right into my eyeline, wavering every time someone got up to use the toilet.

I woke to Al's dry-heaves echoing from the bathroom at some point after two thirty.

And again at four.

Still, I finally managed to stay asleep for a few hours.

My normal wake-up time came and went. I wouldn't have been able to get up even if I wanted to. I got up with everyone else when Al shook the bed frame - _again _\- to climb down and get ready.

We were spared the misery of beginning Stage Two of training by an even worse indignity: it was Visiting Day.

My heart sank as soon as I realized that the holiday snuck up on us. Typically the day was some time after Choosing so that families could go and visit their newly-placed children. It allegedly helped to ease the transition. Caleb and I had Chosen at the same time so I'd never experienced Visiting Day other than watching a few older acquaintances return to Abnegation for dinner one evening.

With the way Dauntless ran initiation, I couldn't see them wanting us to go out to see our families. "Hey Al," I called quietly. "D'you remember if Four said anything about Visiting Day?"

The taller boy paused while putting his shirt on. "I think he said there's a reception in the Pit?" he replied, just as confused as I was. "Someone mentioned it yesterday - I know I heard something - but with all the stress…" he trailed off.

"Yeah," I said after he didn't speak again. "Well, I guess they'll tell us if there's something we need to know?" I eyed Will just a few feet away, but he looked pointedly away to start up a loud conversation with Christina.

_Excellent._ She must have remembered she was mad at me. I was waiting for her to resume her rant from the other night, though that required her to actually _speak_ with me.

Al finished struggling with his shirt and shoved his hands in his back pockets. "Do you want to sit together if we both don't have… visitors?" He avoided saying "family" with all the grace of a dog on an ice patch. "Figured you and I could stick together. Team bonding and all that."

I nodded because what else was there to do? Of my original friends I was down to the literal last one. And we weren't even that close. Al wasn't exactly killing it with his rank, either. By the time initiation was over, would he even still be in Dauntless? Before I could spiral further down that path, I was interrupted. One of the Dauntless-born sauntered through the door, ignoring Molly's spiteful snarl. "Right, since you guys haven't been here on Visiting Day before they wanted me to tell you how it works," the girl asserted.

"Any visitors you have are gonna be in the Pit. They can go anywhere as long as they're with you. Typical exceptions being the places that we can't go. Armory, command center, shit like that. Same rules of initiates not leaving the compound without an actual member of Dauntless apply," she explained. "Any questions, shove 'em up your ass."

I didn't blame her for walking out without a second glance. Will and Al had said some idiotic things fairly loudly in the dining hall last night about the Dauntless-born knowing who stabbed Edward. Mostly I wanted to know where Four was. He typically gave us the information rundown on the day. Our trainer had been absent since picking us up from the training room yesterday morning.

I didn't get to dwell on Four's whereabouts. With the girl leaving, there was a surge as the transfers suddenly realized they would get to see their families again. I scrambled to put on a clean shirt - I'd meant to bring my now-enormous pile to the laundry room yesterday originally but had completely forgotten - and flatted out the creases in my pants. Al trailed behind the rest of the crowd as I shoved on boots and tied a maroon bandanna around my hair. There wasn't enough time to hustle through a shower. Not unless I wanted to be left on my own.

Anxiety danced in my stomach as we wound through the halls to get to the Pit. Would my parents be there? My brother? The chances of a faction like Erudite having an elimination process like Dauntless seemed pretty low, so I wasn't worried about him being Factionless. The question was if he, like I, would be prohibited from leaving his faction's section of the city until fully initiated. If he couldn't, there was always next year, I reasoned.

My parents though, they had no reason to not come. Other than the chance that they took my betrayal of Abnegation personally. My father in particular being on the council might not be ready to forgive me. Al and I climbed the stairs in silence, both wallowing in misery.

As we moved through the halls, a memory came back to me from when Caleb and I were still in Lower Levels at school. I remembered being excited that we were taking the bus to a new place that wasn't the community center for volunteering or the school for classes. It was an old train station, the tracks long since removed to build up the lines that went to and from Amity. Caleb and I played hopscotch on the squares of light that streamed through the empty panes, following our parents. It was fun until we got deep inside the station.

My mother led us through one of the old platforms to a series of tunnels. The bickering started then. Maybe it had been going on all day, I was a bit too young to be able to remember that now. I did realize why I suddenly thought about that day; my mother kept combating my father with "but it's Visiting Day" until she just stopped in the middle of the hallway. The blue lights and her suddenly-quiet voice turned her to ice. Her words in that musty hall escaped me now, but they were powerful, stalwart. I remembered my father shaking his head before taking Caleb and I back up to the train station and to the bus.

My mother didn't come home until late that evening. She never spoke about it again, and we never took the bus to that train station again. I tried to force the rest of the argument back to my memory but already it was running out from my recollection. Did… did we have family in another faction?

The blue-light halls certainly matched those in Dauntless, though the bulbs could be used in any tunnel in the city. Will had spent a good ten minutes the other day talking about how the shade was picked to help attune eyes back and forth from dark environments to full brightness of being outside. It was possible then that we were visiting one of the other factions. Erudite and Candor could have still have sections of their faction underground. Faction history spoke about how all five were originally underground until they dared to live above-ground again. I was hazy on when exactly that happened or if the factions changed locations, but it was _technically_ possible that the tunnel we'd been in had gone to Dauntless or another faction.

I wondered if this wasn't the first time my parents would be coming to the Pit to visit someone they knew in Dauntless. It also might not be the first time they _don't_ visit another faction. The thought didn't make my trip any more bearable.

Distracting myself, I started up a conversation with Al about what food the kitchens would trot out for Visiting Day. He thought the day might merit cake once again, but I pointed out how much more they'd need to make with visitors filtering in and out all day. Chocolate was expensive from the point values I'd seen in the shops. I suspected it was grown in one of the greenhouses maintained by the coalition of Amity and Erudite farmers. Cocoa didn't exactly flourish in Chicago's climate.

Still, whatever the farmers were doing had to be enough that we could still get the delicious chocolate. Cake hadn't been served since the Choosing Ceremony, but there were always chocolate chip muffins - for a little while - in the mornings to tide my growing sweet tooth over.

We got to the Pit and everything was in chaos. Typical and yet not so typical. There were far more young kids roaming around and the color palette of the room was so _bright_. Even when visiting in other factions the Erudite kept to their sky blue blazers or pale turquoise pants. And while there were never any direct Amity transfers, there were still quite a few extended families milling around talking to their cousins, siblings, or other relatives. Their bright yellows and oranges clashed horrendously with Erudite. Only the subdued visitors from Candor looked like they may have belonged here on a typical day.

I spied Christina and Will only because she was making a fuss as she fought with her starkly-dressed mother. Frowning, I ignored Christina's shouts of "Prude!" to focus on looking for my own family. One or two grey spots caught my eye but they belonged to a _very_ dusty Candor child and an ancient matriarch. Not my family then.

"Hey, I see my dad. And ma," Al said, pointing his finger towards a Candor justice and her husband who looked painfully out of place. I saw immediately where Al got his height from as well as his "please kill me" expression. The apple didn't fall far from the tree there. Maybe their visit would go well, then, if fear and hesitation also ran in the family.

Still, I had been ragging pretty hard on my friend so I pressed my lips into a smile and offered to walk over with him. Al jumped at the chance and started dragging me towards the pair.

Before I got very far though I was tapped on the shoulder quickly and gently. When I looked to see who it was, my smile turned genuine. "Mother!" I cried out. I threw my arms around her and allowed myself to sink into her hug. I breathed in her smell - so different than the steel and concrete of Dauntless. "I didn't see you there."

Her laugh ruffled my hair. "Hello my dear. I only just got here. The bus was running late," she explained. She gently tucked my hair back around my ears and stepped back to look me over. For all the commotion around us, I could only focus on our reunion. I lost sight of where Al went off to. "You look well," my mother said earnestly.

"And you, as well," I quickly replied. Old habits sprung up and I moved just so to be at a respectable distance. The hug had surprised both of us, I think, and now with my mother looking me over intently I realized how _different_ I was from when I'd left.

I barely even looked the same with my hair tied back and my clothes form fitting. My muscles were developing gradually, and I wasn't hiding from anything. Confidence. I had confidence. As soon as I made that revelation, I _also_ realized that the shirt I'd grabbed liked to slip off of one shoulder exposing - horror of all horrors to my Abnegation heritage - my bra strap. Shrugging my shoulder I tried to settle the fabric to sit like a proper shirt. The motion made the neckline dip to fully showcase the ravens flying across my skin.

My mother's eyes went from the strap to the ink. Then she looked back at my face and sighed, her lip still curled in a smile. "You've grown so much already. Oh I wish your father was here to see it."

* * *

I convinced my mother to stay for lunch, wheedling the extra half hour out of her after an offhand comment about not getting the chance again for another whole year. Plus the fact that my father had refused to come down only added to the guilt trip. My mother acquiesced and I studied her from the corner of my eye the whole time as we moved from the Pit to the dining hall. She didn't even flinch at the steep walkways or need to ask where the line in the mess started, confirming my earlier suspicions.

After we had chicken patty sandwiches I broached the subject casually. It came out that my mother, head of the volunteer effort in Abnegation, had grown up in Dauntless. She didn't seem comfortable discussing it any further so I dropped the subject. That still left me with questions of whether I had more extended family - besides my deceased maternal grandparents - in Dauntless. Next year I would press the subject.

Next year. The thought of waiting a whole year before getting to really _talk_ with my mother and to see my father again was depressing. Such was the cost of leaving Abnegation. _Faction before blood_. Eric's words from a few days ago rang out in my head. I thought I'd fully understood what they meant at the time. I hadn't.

Our goodbye was far less touching than the reunion. "You shouldn't seem too close to family," my mother had whispered when we stood to bus our trays of food. "It makes you look easily influenceable. And Abnegation isn't as strong as we used to be as a faction." So, we parted with a handshake and flat promises to speak again if we ran into one another.

I wanted to say more. I wanted to ask if I should try to speak to Caleb once initiation was over. It ate at me that I was only afforded the chance to talk to my mother and no one else. My teeth clamped down on my tongue as my mother departed from Dauntless.

Sighing, I wrapped my arms around my stomach and looked around the Pit. It was still pretty hectic, though the crowd had thinned out. People were still eating lunch in the cafeteria or in the few cafes around the Pit. Tori waved at me from a few yards away but I didn't feel like going over to talk to her. She had just come in with a small group of Candor men and women and was helping them to find where their loved ones might be.

I felt a bit lost and uncomfortable. My first instinct was to find one of my friends but I knew my presence wouldn't be appreciated by most of them. Al was long gone. I tapped my fingers on my arm, uncertain of what to do.

I overheard someone above me on a walkway talking about their most recent mile times and it gave me an idea. Running had become my safe "thing to do" and it would help me to clear my head.

Throwing a smile at Tori as I passed by her, I slipped through the crowd to the familiar pathway to the training room. I put my hair up into a ponytail, wrapping the bandanna I'd put on earlier around my wrist to get it out of the way. Once I got to the room I regretted not getting a water bottle, but the prospect of walking all the way back to the cafeteria was anything but appealing.

A few quick limbering stretches made me regret my wardrobe choices. My shirt moved far too much for my liking, switching slumped shoulders with every shuffle of my feet. I tried to tuck it into my pants but that just irritated me even more. Finally I ended up taking my ponytail out and tightening the fabric by "knotting" the bottom with my hair tie.

"Gorgeous," I laughed to myself, shaking my head. My hair bounced in my face but once I got to a decent speed it was manageable. Then I could think.

My mother's visit had distracted me from my main worries of the day - the unknown assailant - and I double checked that the door was completely open. It unnerved me that there wasn't a single piece of news from either of the trainers or from Eric. I frowned, trying to remember if I'd seen Eric at all since our final fights. When we had sat in the cafeteria the other night we had watched Four and Lauren pouring over papers - our individual stats, presumably. I don't think we saw Eric participating, but then again our group adjourned to the drinking party while the instructors were still working.

My lungs started to burn a few minutes after my legs did. I kept going at a slightly slower pace until I could breathe easily once again. I didn't want to stop completely and lose momentum. My ranking was solid so far, and any training I did certainly couldn't hurt my continued work. We were supposed to merge with the Dauntless-born training group at this point, too. That was something to look forward to in my mind. Maybe the added people would help Christina to realize that she didn't have to be up my ass about how well I was doing. More than likely the Dauntless-born still had a better chance of being, well, better at initiation until we got to Stage Three.

A figure darkened the door frame, blocking out the hallway light. I stuttered to a stop, fists raised to block my face before I even realized the reflex was happening. "Woah, woah, easy there," Eric grunted. His eyebrows lept up and his palms were up in a calming gesture. I took a deep breath and pressed my eyes closed.

"Sorry, it's been a long day," I hissed. I was still fairly out of breath from running and his sudden appearance had made my heart rate skyrocket. Thank you, paranoia. "Thought you were here to gouge my eyes out." I'd like to think that I wouldn't have freaked out quite so much if I hadn't been right next to the door when he'd stepped into the room.

I had to give him credit, he didn't laugh at my appearance or my overreaction. Eric took two slow steps, his feet shuffling on the floor. It struck me as odd that I heard him; normally I had to concentrate to hear his footsteps. I blamed the adrenaline and finally dropped my hands to my side. "No one is harming another one of my initiates," Eric finally replied. "You were pretty ready-to-go though," he added.

"Thanks," I said dryly. My pulse still beat strong enough that I could feel it in my palms, and I bent over to rest my hands on my knees. I finally opened my eyes and peered up at the blonde.

Eric looked concerned, his mouth scrunched into a tight frown. "You sure you're alright?" He asked. His voice dropped low.

That wouldn't do. The last thing I needed was to be thought of as weak. I forced a lopsided smile onto my face and stood up. "Totally fine," I said, cutting off any further discussion. "Winded. Running." Eric didn't look convinced.

I fidgeted with my hair, still trying to look at ease. "What are you doing here anyway?" I asked. Not a masterful pivot in conversation but effective nonetheless.

Eric rocked on the heels of his boots and crossed his arms. "Checking on initiates who like to wander by themselves, especially the ones with death wishes," he answered.

I felt my ears burn red, and I resumed jogging at a comfortable pace. "How is training a death wish?" I called back. My voice hitched up an octave, betraying my attempt to be casual.

"Prior, stop running for five minutes. Talk to me?" He phrased it like a question rather than an order. I slowed to a walk instead of stopping completely. Compromise. I'd let him talk at me but I couldn't face him. I didn't want to look at anyone. Why couldn't I just be left alone to sulk?

Eric muttered something under his breath and strode quickly to catch up with me. He stepped in front of me, forcing me to stop unless I wanted to collide with his chest. "What?" I snapped quickly, mirroring his crossed arms and raised eyebrow.

"Hi," he barked, matching my tone exactly. "You're speaking to me right now, in case you forgot."

"Of course. How could I forget you're a _Leader_," I sneered. Where was all this frustration coming from? I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth.

Eric closed his eyes and visibly mouthed counting from one to five. "I'm going to assume all this misdirected anger isn't coming from the girl I guaranteed got the rank she _deserved_ instead of the rank that a pissed off instructor wanted to give her," his voice was controlled, steady, and a little bit menacing. The point was obvious: stop fucking around.

I opened my mouth to rebut - because I clearly do have a death wish - and got cut off. "You and your friends might be a little tired and cranky from Stage One but you do not get to use that as an excuse to be backtalk a direct superior," he finished. Adrenaline spiked in my veins again.

"You honestly think I'm just tired?" I retorted. "Really?"

He shrugged one shoulder, hesitant. I pounced on that hesitation, jabbing one finger at his chest. "I'm _tired,_" I parroted shrilly, "because I spent the past twenty-four hours worrying if - no not if because it has to be someone here - _who_ in this complex stabbed one of the people who lives in _my dorm _in the middle of the night. I'm_ tired_ because I spent all night waiting for one of us to get stabbed or worse shot by said maniac."

Eric's jaw tightened. I didn't care. I wasn't done yet.

I continued, turning to pace back and forth as I raved. "We aren't told anything about what's happening. You're clearly not even investigating because we're just told to go about our lives like nothing happened. A kid got stabbed in the eye with a fucking butter knife from dinner. That _happened_. But nah, it's Visiting Day. Just smile at your families who have no idea what the hell you signed on to do," I snarled.

"So thanks for your concern, but you asking if I'm alright isn't going to suddenly _make_ me alright. Newsflash - that doesn't work for anyone in the _fucking_ whole city." I finished my rant with an unsatisfactory feeling pitted in my stomach. It didn't feel good to go off on Eric.

_Shit_.

I tightened my shoulders and waited for the dressing down of the century. I'd just shouted in the face of a Leader who'd basically just told me to stop talking back or so help him.

"You don't think we're investigating Edward's assailant?" His question was quiet and genuine confusion clouded his eyes. "You're kidding me, right?"

I gaped like a fish out of water. My bravado had stolen any further coherent words from me. "No?" I squeaked out.

He sighed and raked both hands through his hair. I realized suddenly how _exhausted_ he looked. "Christ almighty. I thought you were smarter than that, Prior," he groaned. "Of course we're investigating. That's why Kyle watched you for six hours straight. The man can read a room better than a whole security team. We don't have cams in the dorms so everything is straight up manpower. I've got eighteen more statements sitting on my desk from the past thirty-six hours that I still have to comb through because I spent _literally_ all the rest of the day trying to wrangle Lauren and Four to write up full profiles of all you kids who weren't accounted for."

Eric laughed bitterly and shook his head. "I don't blame you for being upset, but Prior, give me a little credit here."

I wanted to crawl into a tiny hole and never have to talk to Eric ever again. "Sorry," I apologized. It was a hoarse whisper. "I didn't… know. Ask. At all."

Silence fell between us. I couldn't take it any longer, and I brushed past him to head for the door. Escape was my only option. He grabbed my wrist loosely, just enough to stop me in my tracks. I could have tugged my hand away easily. "You know you can talk to anyone here, right?" he offered.

I didn't know what to think of this revelation. Kindness and compassion didn't mesh well with the do-or-die persona of Dauntless. "The flip side of 'faction before blood' is that you don't need your family to talk to," Eric continued in that same quiet, level tone. "You can reach out to anyone here and they'll have your back. As long as you have theirs."

I looked back at Eric. I scrutinized his expression for a half dozen heartbeats. There wasn't a single bit of hesitation. He was entirely genuine, letting me know that Dauntless wasn't just tactical squads or "hellians" with bad tattoos.

"Oh." I didn't know what to say. "T-thanks."

He let go of my wrist and sighed. I was free to leave, I suppose. Now I couldn't figure out if I really wanted to. "Sorry-" I started to apologize once again.

Eric shook his head. "Don't. I mean, you shouldn't try that stunt again, but I have a feeling you already know that," he said. "You know I'm not always so easy going."

I stared up at him before a surge of giggles overtook me. "Yeah, you're a real teddy bear," I choked out.

"Hey, come on. I'm not that bad," Eric protested earnestly. "C'mere," he said brusquely. I started when he tugged my shoulder to pull me into an embrace. It was my second hug in so little time and even more unexpected than the first.

It was a hug. From Eric.

I didn't get much of a chance to react. He patted me on the back twice - his hands hitting my shoulder blades squarely - and then let me go just as fast. "See, easy going," Eric grunted.

"Now can I ask if you're alright without getting my head bitten off? Because I'm going to," he added. I continued to flounder, trying to pull myself together.

_It wasn't a big deal_, I fervently yelled at my Abnegation heritage. Physical contact wasn't taboo here, and I'd seen dozens of Dauntless hug in the way Eric just hugged me. It was a way to show camaraderie.

He smirked, falling back into his normal attitude. It kicked me from my confusion, though, so I welcomed the change. "Are you alright now, Prior?"

I crossed my arms and cocked my hip. "Never better," I replied blithely.

"Is that why your shirt is tied on?"

I almost made a whole minute with him without blushing like a moron. "Ye-up."


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: So I finally read Insurgent. What a crock of….. *ahem***

**Canon is shit, I've decided. The concepts presented in Divergent were phenom. The application moving past like chapter 15? Not so much. I'm honestly concerned for the safety of the walls of my apartment if and when I read Allegiant. Or Four. I will not survive reading Four's POV about Eric. It's gonna be painful.**

* * *

Chewing on my lip, I sat as stiffly as possible on the bench. Situated in the middle of a short corridor, we were waiting for the go-ahead to enter one of six different doors. Four had brought us to this lonesome hallway without any explanation.

Both sets of initiates waited. It made for interesting conversation as our numbers dwindled. Four and Lauren selected initiates at random to follow them into two of the doors, not following rank or previous faction affiliation. Christina was taken third, emerging from the room white-faced and jittery. Lauren had offered no explanation, calling the next initiate in without further addressing Christina.

I certainly wasn't able to ask Christina what had happened. Those who had been called in were allowed to leave for the day. And leave they did. Some scurried away; others seemed pensive. When Al tried to ask Will what was inside the rooms, all he got in reply was insistence that they weren't allowed to tell.

And so we watched. And waited. And worried.

Peter sulked, his arms crossed tightly. I kept looking at him as he slouched further down on the bench across from me. Both of his cronies had been called in before he was.

The waiting was unbearable. It got down to Uriah, Peter, some other Dauntless-born I didn't know, and myself. When Four opened the door to let Al out, I was about ready to volunteer myself to go regardless of the way that Al's hands shook.

The Dauntless-born kid I didn't know got called instead. Peter threw his hands in the air. "Come on. What gives? I ranked number one in round one and now I have to wait a million years for training?" he complained.

Uriah shook his head. He sat up to better glare at Peter. "You might have ranked high for a transfer, but don't go thinking you're hot shit, Hayes," he asserted.

"You didn't even legitimately get top rank," I added quietly. I might have been biting my tongue for the past few days ever since I found myself the odd girl out, but I had had enough of Peter to put him in his place. Uriah also was very much the kind of guy who wouldn't put up with elitist bullshit.

Peter rounded on me, ignoring Uriah's comment. I was the easier target in his mind, I'm sure Standing up, he stalked over and leered over me. I could smell coffee on his breath still from breakfast.

"You watch your tongue, Stiff," he growled.

I raised an eyebrow. "Or what? You're going to glare at me a little more?" I retorted.

Uriah stood slowly. I could see him moving from the corner of my eye. Still, I had to keep my attention on Peter. I was brash, not stupid.

He leaned in close, mock whispering in my ear. "Or maybe next time you get knocked down on a run out in the city you won't be getting back up again." His breath was hot on my neck.

The heel of my palm collided with his gut, sending the air from his lungs in a satisfying rush. He scrambled backward, doubled over in pain. "You'll pay for that, Stiff," Peter gasped. One foot failed to find purchase, and he went down in a crumple of limbs.

Uriah, his hands neatly in his pockets, was the image of perfect innocence. The toe of his boot was scuffed now though, fresh polish smudged.

"Stay away from me, Peter," I warned. I was unmoved from my seat. The last thing that I needed was to escalate the situation any farther. He wasn't worth the hit to my rank, regardless of how _good_ it had felt to sock him in the stomach.

The snarl that stretched across Peter's face didn't mesh with my plans. He would be out for revenge. I turned my head when I heard a door open down the hall.

I didn't see Peter's fist coming at the side of my head. I certainly _felt_ his knuckles driving my face into the stone wall next to me. Pain exploded along my cheek and down my jaw. Our training had me moving reflexively, throwing my elbow in the direction where the blow had come from. Sitting down was a disadvantage now. I couldn't move easily to follow through with my strike.

"_Enough_, you pack of brats," Lauren shouted. Calloused fingers pried Peter away from me; he had latched onto my arm to pull me to the floor. Uriah got in a few last kicks at the back of Peter's knees before stepping against the wall.

I blinked away tears and tacky wetness dripping down from above my eyelid. The rough wall had cut open a gash along my face. That explained the surge in pain every time my heart beat. "Uriah, in there. Hayes, room three. Prior, the last one." Lauren directed us into separate rooms though not before she raved about cooperation being "fucking important in a military, or is that too complicated to get through idiotic skulls?"

The door snapped shut on Lauren's red face. Instantly, the sounds in the hall became muted. I touched the side of my face, wincing at how tender the skin was. From how little concern Lauren had shown about any of our injuries, it wasn't a big deal.

I turned around to look for a towel or perhaps a first aid kit. My stomach dropped down to my feet when I realized the room I'd entered was nearly identical to the aptitude testing chamber. The same uncomfortable examination chair waited vacant alongside a computer terminal and rolling stool.

My palms started to sweat. Were we being re-evaluated for our aptitudes? Would my secret be discovered? I considered the door behind me. I would be able to make it out of this floor without being questioned. However the rules were quite clear for initiates; no one was allowed to leave Dauntless.

And where would I go? No, I couldn't run. I turned back to face the examination chair. The fake leather covering was worn on the seat and along the seams. I moved forward, curious. It wasn't quite the same as the aptitude test chair, I realized. There was a neck support and armrests. Straps dangled down, buckles glinting in the yellowed light that was becoming brighter and brighter as the bulb warmed up.

Tiny crescent-like knicks in the armrest by the hands gave me pause. I half expected to notice rust colored spots on the faded turquoise leather from long-dried blood. Everything was rather sterile, though, and I couldn't tell if that made me more or less nervous.

I took advantage of the cabinets along the wall, finding gauze to unravel and press against the side of my head. The bleeding hadn't slowed. Head wounds. Total pains, metaphorically and literally.

Sitting in the exam chair was beyond my limited bravery. I sat on the stool instead, wheeling myself into the corner closest to the door. There I waited, attention wavering between the slight groans and whispers of noise that I managed to hear from the hall and my frantic glances at the examination chair.

"It's not going to attack you," I whispered to myself. How idiotic, to be afraid of a piece of furniture. Still, I couldn't fight the wariness that clamored at the edges of my thoughts. _You're Divergent!_ _You're going to get caught! Why did you leave Abnegation? You don't belong here_.

I wanted Four or Lauren to just come inside and get it over with. Make the discovery. Identify the liar who had faked her way through part one of Initiation.

All I got for my impatience was a crick in my neck and a red stain on my palm when my cut bled through the gauze.

I changed gauze twice until no fresh blood stained the fabric. Further investigation of the storage cabinets revealed a stash of alcohol wipes. Those helped to clean off my face and hand. I filled the only trash can available with wrappers and bloodstained cloth. It was a distraction that I missed as soon as I didn't have it.

My fingers probed the edge of the cut. The flashes of pain were punishment for not leaving things well enough alone.

And still I waited.

My stomach growled. How long had it been since breakfast? Surely someone should have come for me. I didn't have any point of reference for how much time was passing. I didn't dare turn on the computer. Fear of setting off some kind of alert for messing with the terminal overrode even the greatest worry that I had been forgotten about.

I'd started to doze off, my head at an awkward cant to keep my right side away from the wall, when the door opened finally. It swung inward, threatening to hit my knees. I scurried to my feet to address the person who entered.

I recognized the man, if only by his shock of red hair. "Sergeant Richards?" I questioned. "You're not one of my trainers."

The truck driver started visibly when I stepped into his field of view. He wasn't alone, either. A small group of Dauntless lingered in the hall, talking and laughing. There was no sign of Lauren, Four, or any of my fellow Initiates.

Richards frowned, apparently struggling to recall who I was or how I knew him. "You're that first jumper girl, aren't you? The transfer," he realized, snapping his fingers when he was certain. "Eric's trainee."

I shrugged one shoulder. "Kind of," I said. "Technically Four is my trainer. Lauren kind of is as well? I think at least now that we're all one big group."

He nodded once, still regarding me carefully. After a moment he spoke again. "So what exactly are you doing unattended in the sim rooms?"

So I had been abandoned. Wincing, I broke eye contact with Richards. "There was a fight. Lauren told me to wait in here until… well I guess until she came to get me," I explained.

Richards tapped his foot while he thought. "She left and I'm not one to mess with training regimens. Especially not Initiation crap. They get really fucking twitchy if everything isn't followed to the letter. C'mon, Jumper. I'll take you to Eric and he can figure out what the hell he wants to do with you," the sergeant reasoned.

I considered protesting but then I remembered how well Four usually took to me missing out on training.

"Eric it is," I agreed.

* * *

Not all of Dauntless resided in the deep dark of Chicago's crust. The Spire rose above the Pit, a glass-enclosed jewel. It didn't soar to the same heights as the Hub or Erudite's series of research facilities but we weren't trying for pointless vanity.

I stole as many glimpses as I could of the bustling heart of the Faction below my feet as Richards escorted me to the lift. He clicked the highest button. "Leadership is up top. Dunno why, it just is. Other offices are on the lower floors, and then there's some primo housing. Don't plan on getting one of those apartments though. Mostly it's faction elders there. People who have been Initiated for decades," Richards explained idly as we ascended.

"Can I ask you a question?" Any other day I might have cared to sit and listen to faction trivia. I still couldn't get the image of the examination chair out of my head, not after staring at it for over an hour.

The lift surged to a stop. Richards had braced one hand on the wall to compensate. I staggered forward, unbalanced. "There's a bit of a hiccup with the breaks. The engineers still haven't isolated the problem," Richards said smirking.

"Thanks for the heads up," I growled under my breath. I flinched when Richards patted me on the back and assured me that I'd get used to it. He'd avoided my question which irritated me.

He stalked forward, hands now tucked into his pockets. A pair of dying ferns littered the ground with leaves next to a water cooler and several worn chairs. There was only one place to go outside of the lift - a door labeled simply "Leadership Offices." Richards paused just before it to set his shoulders and smooth the front of his shirt.

Richards walked inside first, gesturing for me to follow with a twitch of his hand. "Is Eric available? I found one of his people lurking in the simulation rooms unattended," he explained to a dark-haired Dauntless sitting at a central desk. Two corridors stretched from the reception area down into the heart of the offices. I could see a bank of windows at the end as both turned towards one another in a U shape.

The man at the desk snorted, surprising me. Other than Four - who as I understood had _never _gotten along with Eric - I had yet to meet another Dauntless who regarded Eric with anything less than respect. It took me until he actually spoke to be able to recognize the man.

"His holiness is currently eating lunch at his desk," Kyle jeered, rolling his eyes. "Too good to join the rest of us mere mortals, I suppose."

Richards cleared his throat and twitched his head in my direction. "As I said, I've got one of his kids."

Kyle sat up, casting his gaze in my direction finally. "Oh. That one. 'Kay," he grunted. Sliding his feet off the desk where they'd been crossed, Kyle punched a number on the massive desk comm. "You've got a visitor inbound, bossman. I'll assume you're decent unless you tell me otherwise."

I raised an eyebrow. Kyle only smirked, amused by his own nicknames and antics. I didn't care to wait for permission, moving to the hallway closest to me. Most of the office doors were open, and the rooms themselves were dark. I'd chosen wrong - and not been corrected - and had to make nearly the whole loop to find Eric's office door.

Looking over my shoulder, I could just see Richards sitting on the edge of the reception desk with a smile on his face looking fondly at Kyle as they chatted quietly. Oh. Cute.

"Enter," Eric ordered gruffly from the depths of the office. I stepped inside. I immediately regretted my decision to pick being confronted by Eric versus Four. The latter may have reamed me out for being left on my lonesome, something which was not my fault.

Eric, however, took one look at me and groaned. "It's day one of integrated training. _Day one!_" he echoed. "How hard is it to just shake hands, introduce yourselves, and not get into a pissing contest?"

I cringed. Tugging my hair down from its ponytail, I shook my head to try and cover the side of my face that was still raw and painful. "It wasn't my fault," I said.

"It never is. Jesus, Prior. Tell me this was after the sims. What happened? Why the hell are you up here instead of with the rest of the brat pack?" He asked everything briskly and without a second for me to get to respond. "You're not dicking around in the training rooms trying to be fucking macho, right?"

I lifted one shoulder. The change in Eric's demeanor from yesterday wasn't even surprising anymore. The moment I had a handle on his mood, it would totally flip. I remembered how he spoke about still slogging through the investigation into Edward's attacker. I'm sure seeing another beat up Initiate didn't help. "We were almost done with the sims, I guess. I had been waiting forever outside. Uriah and Peter started going at it over ranks."

Eric rubbed at his face with his hand. "And you just had to butt in, too," he growled.

I decided to ignore his comment as well as the sting to my pride that came with it. "Peter didn't like the fact that I called him out, and he lashed out at me. Concrete beats face every time as I've learned, and I got this lovely piece," I explained while pointing to my cheek. "Lauren came out because whoever she had with her had just finished. She put us in separate rooms and told us to wait until one of them came by.

"No one did, at least not until the sergeant from the other day came into the room I was in. It had been a while and I guess they forgot I was in there. It was just a stupid fight, that's all." My fingers played with the end of my hair, twisting a lock in circles. Eric hadn't told me that I could sit down and I wasn't about to ask him while he was still mid-rant.

Eric huffed, glaring just over my shoulder in the direction of the reception area. "You must mean Richards," he said. "The driver crew was scheduled to use the sims after you guys finished up."

He got quiet. I could almost see the wheels spinning in his head as he slowly tapped a pen on the desk in front of him. "Alright," Eric started quietly, "this is only majorly inconvenient. I take it neither of the trainers went over with you what the sims are about? And you didn't get to run through anything?"

His attention was still focused over my shoulder. I didn't mind as it meant I could sneak glances around the office without feeling idiotic. Everything looked secondhand but sturdy. Practical until the end, Dauntless was. "They took us to the hallway and told us to wait. I think whatever lesson thing was planned they were giving individually," I replied.

"They're not looking at aptitude, are they?" I asked when Eric continued to think.

"Hm? Oh, no," he answered idly, shaking his head once. "The sims aren't for aptitude. That's not important. If you've got the drive, you'll make it through initiation. We don't need to waste time testing for aptitude."

I closed my eyes and counted to five before responding. Relief sent a physical wave of euphoria from the top of my head all the way to my feet._ Thank. God. _"That makes sense. Waste of time and resources," I babbled.

Eric stood up. When I opened my eyes again he was back to focusing entirely on me. I wrangled the tiny spike of tension that I'd given myself away by asking about aptitude in the first place. The more that I acted guilty, the more likely that Eric or whoever would look for _why _I was.

"C'mon, Prior. Field trip back downstairs. I'm sure the rest of your people have the day off. Plenty of time to get you through the first round of sims like you're supposed to have been doing," he said. "Might even put you through twice if you're not completely wrecked from round one."

"Twice?" I blanched, dogging his footsteps as he lead me out from the office into the reception area. Richards threw himself from Kyle's desk and into parade rest as soon as he spotted Eric.

"Never mind," Eric dismissed. "Rich, you're in luck. Your reevaluation is going to get pushed off the docket. Initiate needs to get tested."

The sergeant's expression was a mix of confusion and relief. "I can always wait and do it later today," he offered. "Jameson had mentioned this being important to-"

Eric waved the rest of Richards' words away and continued moving to the lift, jabbing the call button with his thumb. "It's no trouble. Enjoy the day off. Kyle could use the company. He's being unbearably witty today."

I waved silently to the pair of Dauntless as the door closed behind me. Eric and I were alone, standing inches from one another awaiting the return of the elevator. My hands had started sweating again, and I wiped them on my pants before shoving them in my pockets.

The unknown of exactly what these sims were testing for rose up again in my thoughts. If they weren't for aptitude, what exactly was Eric and the trainers looking for? "So the sims-" I started to ask.

Eric looked at me pointedly. _Don't ask_, the expression read. Alright, so even though I was about to do them, I still couldn't know. Anxiety caused me to bounce my leg. The elevator finally arrived.

Inside the metal walled box, I had even less to look at. I knew that I was staring at Eric every few seconds but couldn't stop. "So you're not allowed to tell me what the sims are for," I said finally.

"Correct." Eric kept his answers clipped.

"But we all have to do them. Multiple times?"

"Yes."

"Even after Initiation?"

"Occasionally."

I watched the floor indicator tick down, down, down. "Do they hurt?" I asked quietly.

Eric paused and I saw his eyes flick again over the cut on my face. "Not always. But sometimes, yes."

* * *

Smoke, dust, and chaos filled the air. My chest rattled every time that I sucked in another ragged breath. Disembodied voices called out through the smoke-filled hallway.

My heart raced. What had happened? I tried to think back to what had caused the fire now raging through the halls of the Hub. My mind came up empty. I'm certain if Will had been around, he would have said something about situation amnesia and how stress messed with your head.

Hacking out another cough, I dropped down to my knees. Childhood drills rose to the forefront of my thoughts. Heat and smoke rises. Stay low, get out. I had to keep moving or I would doom myself.

The hallways seemed endless and with how much grey smoke was billowing through the air, I couldn't see any of the emergency signage for where the stairs were. Shouts still echoed, though it seemed I could never quite reach their source.

The carpet scraped at my hands and knees as I scrambled to move faster. Primal fear threatened to take over. I fought to calm down.

I had to escape.

I was going to die here if I didn't get out.

Fear turned to determination as I latched onto that thought. If I could _use_ that fear to move just that much faster, that inch farther, then I would be able to escape. A stairwell door painted red seemed to appear like a ray of sunlight from the heavens.

I patted the bottom with the back of my hand. It was still cool to the touch. Sucking in a massive breath, I stood and slammed on the push bar to open the door.

"Welcome back to the real world," Eric's voice greeted me. I had to blink back the fading image of a red door opening into nothingness which was overlaid across my vision. The black and white "EMERGENCY EXIT" sign from the door-which-did-not-exist still splayed out over Eric's back and the computer screen he was examining.

My hands ached from how hard I gripped the armrests under them. Breathing took on a painful note as I gaped like a fish out of water. Sweet, clean air filled my lungs with every breath, soothing my smoke burned airways. "What was that?" I gasped.

Eric turned his head slightly to glance at me. "That was a fear simulation," he explained. "None of it was real, don't worry. There's no fire."

I leaned forward and gripped the sides of my head in my hands. Everything was spinning. I couldn't feel my fingers and toes. The void ate at the edges of my vision even as I finally saw reality around me.

Wheels clacked on the tile floor and Eric's face dropped in view in front of my face. "Prior, breathe," he ordered. "Look at me. Nod if you can hear me."

My head bobbed almost involuntarily. I couldn't speak. There wasn't enough oxygen in the room.

Eric's face disappeared and I let out a low whine as I exhaled. "In and out, that's all you can do," his disembodied voice assured me. "It was your first time. It'll get better." My brain refused to make sense of his words. I had to focus on breathing. Later I could think about how they wanted to subject me to that misery again.

I closed my eyes. Eric didn't like that. Two fingers tapped the bottom of my chin. "Keep those open. Atta girl," he cooed.

Slowly, I forced myself back into something resembling calmness. My hands shook when I took them away from my head but if I concentrated, I could control the shaking. "Why do you do that to us?" I asked Eric.

He was crouched in front of me, eyes carefully trained on every twitch and shaking breath I was taking. "Why would you put someone through that kind of misery?" I pressed.

"To ever be able to conquer your fears, you have to be aware of what they are," Eric answered. I tried to arch an eyebrow. "You signed on to the faction of bravery and protection. What did you expect? To live in fear for the rest of your life? Fear's kind of the antithesis of Dauntless. We try to eradicate it as efficiently as possible. That means confronting it head on."

I batted away one of his hands when he tried to adjust the hair in front of my face. "And the logic behind making us sit in that hellscape for ages on end?" I retorted. "I get confronting fears, but how on Earth does suffering through for that long make any sense?"

Eric squinted for a long moment, studying me. Then he stood and flipped the stool back upright so he could sit at the computer terminal once more. A few taps on the screen and a timer flipped up dead center in bright red numbers.

3:42.

After a moment he moved my time to the side and started clicking through a file manager. I could see my friends names followed by date stamps. Their results. Eric opened every single one, lining up the timers along the edge of the screen.

"Even the slowest one of your fellow initiates only went under for twenty minutes," Eric said quietly. "And most don't get a fear they were so oblivious to on the first go like you did. It feels like forever in there, but you're not under for that long."

My complaints felt shallow when I saw how long Christina had spent in her fear simulation. Or even Will. Both had taken more than ten minutes. Was Eric right? Was I complaining unduely? If I had gotten out from the situation in less than a handful of minutes, then I must not have been _too_ afraid of the fire.

The panic attack still struggling to reassert itself disagreed with that logic.

Eric turned back to look at me, squinting for another second before falling back into a familiar cocky smile. "Wanna go for round two?"

I'm proud to say that I was feeling well enough to muster a sufficiently deadpan glare. "Ha ha," I said. "I would rather go for another round in the fighting ring with Peter right now than go under again."

Barking out a laugh, Eric shook his head. He gestured towards the door and said I was free to go. Granted, my legs shook and the halls wobbled in my view, but I got far, far away from that hallway.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks as always for your patience, my darling readers. My thesis deadline grows closer but soon I will be FREE from busy-work and experiments that don't function as needed. **

**Once again, I love and adore each and every review that you guys send me, and I'm immensely grateful to those of you who take the time to let me know what you think of the chapters :3**


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